#apparently he collects neckties

[singthesongsofsin]

Question for the dash: for any muses (or muns) from outside Canada/the US, what does your version of Sesame Street's Big Bird look like? I'm from Canada so I just had the yellow Big Bird.

Svetlana had Zeliboba who is not a bird at all, and is the personification of the Russian Dvorovoi, or spirit of the courtyard.

[mayhemproduces]

As Abigail lay defeated on the mat, Syn slides into the ring to check on her, as Malakai just stares from the corner of the ring, beaten, exhausted, and having lost a great deal of blood. The war that just took place in this ring could be put up there with some of the most epic in MPW history, and this crowd here tonight is still on their feet!

Malakai Black is handed a towel from ringside, as Devitt had jogged down to check on him, as both Julia Hart & MJF slide into the ring to check on Abigail as well, who still hadn’t moved. Malakai takes his eyes off the scene, and looked to remove himself from the situation entirely, going to exit the ring, when, clearly very intentionally, MJF actually backs into Malakai Black. MJF turns around and gives Black a shove, telling him to back off, which gets Syn’s attention off of Abby, and gets him up to his feet as well, as if he’s ready to back MJF up if this thing turns violent. Malakai tries to put his hands up, and insist he was just leaving, and issues a warning to Max to get out of the way, but Syn apparently considered that fighting words, as he shoves Max aside and decks Malakai Black with a straight right hand! Malakai and Syn immidately begin to brawl, and Devitt slides into the ring, going right after MJF, as we’ve broken down into full brawl here tonight!

Julia tries to look up at Syn and yell at him to knock it off, but instead, she suddenly receives blunt force trauma to the back of the head, via a boot from VIOLET! ANarChy has charged down here to join the fray, and Matsumoto charges, knocking both Syn & Malakai Black on their asses with a huge body check to both men! Syn and Malakai roll to the corner, as VIOLET shitcans Julia from the ring! Devitt pops MJF to get him off of him for a second, before turning and trying to engage with VIOLET, but he’s not quick enough, VIOLET beats him to the punch and drops him with a massive End of Everything! Devitt rolls from the ring, but MJF manages to pop VIOLET with a forearm, stunning her, before MJF turns around and looks for Matsu…

BUT INSTEAD EATS A KRAKEN CRUSHER FROM PAN OFF THE TOP ROPE!

MJF spiked right on his head, practically out of nowhere! Holy shit!

It doesn’t take long though, for Pan to quickly be overwhelmed by The Fallen, as Syn & Julia Hart slide into the ring behind her and knock her down, and begging beating down on Pan!

As The Fallen continue to stomp away at Pan, suddenly, the crowd comes to life, as a man we were sure wasn’t here tonight, Joshua Bishop is here! Syn & Julia turn around, only to get double goozled by Joshua Bishop, lifted high into the air, and driven down with a HUGE double chokeslam! Joshua Bishop in the house tonight!

Bishop helps Pan up, and the two share a look, as it looks like our night is gonna end with Bishop & Pan standing tall… but then Josh Bishop kicks Pan in the gut! Bishop puts Pan’s head between his legs, and lifts, looking for a Bishop Bomb, showing everyone there will be no friends in the world title match on Sunday! Before he can launch Pan, though, Pan manages to readjust herself, and lock Bishop in the Necktie! Pan choking out Bishop!

As bishop drops down to a knee, though, suddenly, from behind, Swerve slides into the ring and catches Pan with a House Call!

Pan rolls off Bishop unconscious, and with Bishop down on a knee, and then Swerve nails HIM with a House Call!

Finally, The MPW World Champion, just trying to collect his championship and get the hell out of dodge, HE eats a House Call!

Swerve picks up the MPW World Title and holds it up high, message sent! Swerve Strickland is showing the world he’s going to be leaving Hell on Earth as your MPW world champion!

Goodnight, folks! See you at Hell on Earth!

[arthkael]

Miss Sherlock Episode 1: The First case

"You smell like gunpowder, baby."

Spoiler free summary: In "The First Case", doctor Wato Tachibana (Shihori Kanjiya) is coming back to Tokyo from Syria, where she served as a volunteer in a hospital. Immediately after the landing, she witnesses the gruesome death of her mentor, doctor Mizuno, and meets Inspector Reimon and Sergeant Shibata, the two cops who will investigate Mizuno's death. At the police station she will also meet an enigmatic and eccentric woman nicknamed "Sherlock" (Yuko Takeuchi), an independent consultant detective who helps the Tokyo Metropolitan Police in difficult cases like this. Even though the two can barely stand each other, they will investigate together what seems to be the beginning of a series of killings.

Now let's go to the juicy bits.

SPOILER

Triggers: su1c1d3, gor3, drugs

When doctor Wato Tachibana comes back after her volunteer period in Syria, her family is not there to greet her. In fact, only doctor Mizuno, who she worked with in a hospital in Tokyo, came to see her at the airport.

Even though he is not a relative, the man seems genuinely happy to see she's safe. And apparently the letters he wrote her during her stay in Syria had helped her a lot. But Wato's joy at seeing a familiar face doesn't last long, because... a flash, a bang, and Mizuno falls like a puppet whose strings have been cut. I'm sparing you the screencap, the only thing you have to know is that poor Wato tries desperately to save Mizuno, applying pressure on a wound that can't be closed through pressure.

A bit later Inspector Reimon and Sergeant Shibata are on the crime scene and while the Inspector tries to understand what happened (I seriously love this man, for his humor and his endless collection of fancy neckties),

Shibata is dismayed to learn he has to take pictures of the body and send them to a certain "weirdo".

Wato can't be of help because she's still in shock and anyway the victim's wife is already at the police station, so all the conversations will be held there.

At the police station Wato proceeds immediately to apologize to Akiko, Mizuno's wife. Wato, honey. Seriously, why are you apologizing? You did nothing, literally. The next step is confirming the victim's identity, but when they enter the room the body is kept in, they find a woman rummaging into the corpse because she couldn't allow "a rookie forensic doctor to ruin the autopsy":

Read the novelization if you can. In this scene Wato gay panics and literally describes her as perfection made woman. But let's go on. Even though Reimon reprimands her the woman, who he called Sherlock, keeps examining the wound until she finds...something. The probable cause of Mizuno's death. But the wife is there, so Sherlock should be a little more considerate. Completely ignoring Reimon's advice, Sherlock proceeds to show how smart she is immediately identifying without doubt who's the wife and who's the doctor who just came back from Syria after her volunteering period.

Also, it's interrogation time and that can't wait. Sherlock's investigation has been fruitful,

poor doctor Mizuno had a small bomb inside his stomach, full of a liquid explosive called "the devil's foot". Sherlock found some kind of chip that probably had been used to detonate it remotely. From there, Sherlock proceeds to ask Akiko a series of embarassing and very personal questions,

that make the woman have a panic attack. Oh, enjoy the screencap below of the face Sherlock makes when Akiko starts hyperventilating because it's just..."I have an investigation going on and she has the gall of interrupting it with a panic attack". This woman, I swear.

Seeing that Akiko is useless for the time being, Sherlock tries to leave the premises asking Reimon to call her when the victim's wife will be ready to answer her questions.

Wato isn't having anything of that and follows Sherlock to give her an earful about how you should behave with a person that just lost their spouse, especially when you are a cop. But, to Wato's surprise, Sherlock doesn't feel guilty or embarassed for what she said, and tells Wato she's not a cop, but a consultant, something that Reimon confirms right away. But Wato is upset because Sherlock was able to guess she's a doctor from Syria, how did she know?

An explanation follows, then Sherlock, not satisfied of giving such a mundane list of evidences (thread for suturing on her suitcase, her watch is six hours late, recently a hospital in Syria has been destroyed and the Japanese medical team came back today), shows her total disregard for personal space smelling Wato and whispering "I can smell gunpowder on you, a mix of RDX and aluminium".

Of course, Wato gay panics. Sherlock leaves and Reimon gives Wato his business card, telling her to call him if she remembers something. The next day, after a sleepless night caused by jet-lag and probably trauma too, Wato finds herself at Sherlock's door. She called Reimon to have Sherlock's address, she wants the truth about Mizuno's death and she will have it, even though she will have to collaborate with such a difficult woman. She learns it's not Sherlock's door, but Mrs Hatano's, who rents her an apartment.

And said apartment has, of course, a very familiar number...

Wato's meeting with Sherlock doesn't go well. First Sherlock mocks Wato's clothes, then she throws her a Hermès coat to wear because she can't think if her aesthetic sense is disturbed (I feel you, Sherlock). Pity that said coat had been used in an...unorthodox way.

But Sherlock should forget about the clothes, because Wato wants to know who killed Mizuno. He had written her 19 letters during her stay in Syria, those letters helped when she was living in an unfamiliar place, why did he die like that, and... Sherlock is not even listening, dammit!

In fact Sherlock isn't listening to Wato's tirade because she had already figured out the mechanics of the homicide. Apparently Poldhu, a medical startup, made a pill with a microchip that could monitor health sending data to cellphones. It's very likely that the killer tampered with one of those pills to make it into a bomb. But Sherlock hasn't time to explain, because they found another body, and that makes her insanely happy...

Apparently the unfortunate victim died like poor doctor Mizuno. Hearing that, Wato insists to follow Sherlock, that decides that Wato can go with her if she's willing to put her medical experience at her service.

So off they go, and Mrs Hatano is super happy to see Sherlock go out with somebody, she already ships them. The victim is Ryuichi Kurimoto who, say a few witnesses, died blabbering something about a devil. Sherlock asks Wato to examine his corpse and it's clear that nobody forced the victims to swallow the bombs, all of them did it willingly, maybe believing they were medicines...or something else.

Sherlock gives spectacle of herself making her own examination, that includes smelling the body and deducing that the last place where the dead man spent his time was a club, deduction confirmed by the re-entry stamp on the back of his hand.

He had also a keychain with the kind of tags rehab facilities give you for every month of sobriety. Is it possible he was involved in drug trafficking? The only thing to do is to check the club he visited the last night, The Criterion.

Cranky and overstimulated, Sherlock wants answers and she wants them now. The owner, who is clearly a criminal, tries to deflect telling her it's the first time she brings a friend with her.

She answers saying 友達 じゃない (tomodachi janai), "(this person is) not my friend". Remember this line because you will hear it in every. Single. Episode. Bonus for Wato's scared face because she understood in what kind of place Sherlock brought her. Shihori Kanjiya is an endless source of funny faces, especially when Sherlock does something weird or inappropriate. The owner of the Criterion club vaguely threatens her about the danger of sticking her nose in other people's business, so she effectively threatens him about the illegal business that go on in his estabilishment.

One of the employees of the club confirms that Kurimoto was an addict, and he was friends with the club's DJ, Kuuya. The latter one sold him drugs, and had a circle of rich doctors who bought this kind of substances from him. Wato's hackles are immediately raised when Sherlock insinuates that maybe doctor Mizuno was an addict.

The next day Wato visits Akiko, and this allows us to learn something about Wato: after she completed her medical training she wanted to work in her father's hospital in Sapporo, but then the 2011 earthquake happened (remember the series takes place in 2018) and she went to Syria instead. In an enviroment of constant emergency she learned that she would never be a real doctor, because she panicked and froze when it came to act quicky (I don't understand why, she reacted very quickly when she tried to help Mizuno)...

So she doesn't want to be a doctor anymore. Since her family didn't want her to volunteer they shunned her, and now she can't go home. She and Akiko go to a walk, where Wato sees her mentor's wife quickly fixing a little girl's hair, acting like she did it a lot of times. But Mizuno and Akiko haven't children, because Akiko didn't want to... Wato hasn't time to wonder about this because Sherlock sends her a message: she waits for her at Poldhu heaquarters, and she's not alone.

The man with her is her brother, Kento Futaba, who works for the Intelligence Service and of course an electronic pill that can be made into a bomb falls into his professional interest. I'll say that I like this incarnation of Mycroft a lot. He and Sherlock seem to genuinely like eachother, they often engage in friendly banter. They also try to take care of eachother, and Kento especially is very protective of Sherlock.

The three are greeted by the Poldhu management and Sherlock, ignoring Kento's recommendations, decides to conduct the interrogation herself, forcing them to relinquish the list of the contributors who financed their electronic pill. One of the contributors is Kuuya, who received four samples of the pill. That means that he is the killer and there could be other two victims. Inspector Reimon calls, alerting Sherlock that a young woman called the police saying her boyfriend, Kuuya, had a nervous breakdown and ran away screaming something about a devil.

While Sherlock and co. search Kuuya's apartment, learning that he was in Kurimoto's same rehab clinic, Kuuya goes to the rehab facility to kill Yohei Makishima, a drug addict that keeps entering and exiting rehab. Scared out of his mind, Kuuya is obeying the orders of a mysterious person who will kill him if he doesn't terminate Makishima.

Sherlock, Wato, Reimon and other cops arrive on time and stop him. Apparently Makishima is not just a drug addict, but also a murderer, ten years ago he killed a child, and somebody used Kuuya to try to make him pay for what he did. Sherlock and Wato talk to the director of the clinic and learn that he received a threatening letter a few months earlier.

Looking at the letter Sherlock understands something and asks Reimon to find the parents of the child Makishima killed. That evening, Akiko receives a visit that brings her upsetting news:

Akiko is the killer...what happened? Well, Akiko was a single mother whose daughter, Airi, had been killed by Makishima. She tried to move on and married Mizuno, but when she learned that her daughter's murderer was out of prison, she decided to kill him using one of his addict friends. She made a donation to Poldhu in Kuuya's name in order to receive the pills that she made into bombs. Being a pharmacist, she had the equipment she needed.

But Mizuno discovered the flow of money, so she killed him. Then she proceeded to deliver the pills to Kuuya who in turn gave one to Kurimoto. Kurimoto refused to collaborate so she killed him. Then she revealed to Kuuya the true nature of the pill he had just taken in order to force him to kill Makishima.

The evidence? Well, the police found the money she gave to Poldhu. And there's the stamps.

Those special stamps formed an image. Mizuno used 19 of them to send his letters to Wato, and Akiko used one for the threatening letter she sent to the rehab clinic. Akiko confesses, but decides that all this pain stops here. She takes her cellphone and a detonation can be heard. Sherlock tries to stop her but sadly Akiko dies like every other victim of this episode, the last pill was for her. But there's more:

Sherlock is somewhat convinced that the woman couldn't hatch that kind of plan all alone, so she tries to make her talk. Too late, Akiko is already dead.

Reimon is satisfied of the outcome of Sherlock's investigation, but Sherlock insists that somebody helped Akiko. Even though she was a pharmacist, it's impossible she had the knowledge to make those bombs all by herself.

Meanwhile Kento is arrived on the crime scene and the first thing he does is worrying for Wato (let's all Stan Kento because he's one of the good ones): he apologizes because she was involved in the case, moreover she hasn't a home or a job, what will she do now? She answers that she doesn't know, that she will think about it when she'll go back to her hotel.

Wato is understandbly sad and exhausted, she saw too many deaths in the few days after she came back, and two of them were people she cared about. Of course she has a lot of feelings to process, but before leaving she has just one last question: why Sherlock is called Sherlock? She wants to know. Sherlock's only answer is this enigmatic stare that can only mean a Tragic Backstory (TM).

Seeing the two interacting (and seeing that Wato is probably the only person that from what he knows genuinely showed interest in Sherlock) Kento has an idea: she should go live with Sherlock!

Sherlock is outraged, she doesn't need a babysitter! But Kento would feel better if he knew she lives with a friend. And, of course:

But fate lends a hand: Shibata arrives to alert Inspector Reimon that the have to go to Hotel New Kamata, the building is burning, it's a disaster. Conveniently, it's the hotel Wato is currently staying in. So Kento takes to most logical (and reassuring for him) decision:

Sherlock acquiesces, but she isn't happy.

Well, that was ominous. The next time we'll see slice-of-life antics happening at 221b, a mystery about a pair of mustaches, Sherlock revealing her addiction, Wato going to therapy and the nth confirmation that Wato and Sherlock aren't friends. Nope. Not even a bit.

[shallicomparetheetolagrenouille]

2022 in books

When I borrowed this novel from the library I thought that the image on the right was a double profile of a man (the protagonist), to signify his change of life and opinion of himself/his work after pulling out of his career in the TV industry, only to realize after finishing the book that it is actually a Bob Dylan poster with the corners curling upwards. Ah well!

This is a noir originally published by Sellerio with the below cover:

Whereas my town’s library apparently has a version re-published by Reubblica/L’Espresso as part of a collection of noir stories set in Italy, one for each Region - in this case, Questa non è una canzone d’amore stands for Lombardy. Which is why the Milan Duomo is in the background, even though it has nothing to do with the plot, unlike the Dylan poster.

I decided to read this book after 1) reading a short story by Robecchi in Una settimana in giallo and loving the ironic tone of his narrator and 2) watching Monterossi on Prime Video, which adapts both the events of this book (in the first three episodes of the six-episode season) and the ones in the third installment of the series about Carlo Monterossi, the titular main character. I have no clue why they skipped the second book, but if all goes well it should be adapted in the next season.

I am very glad that I found this author, because I have the feeling that I will only get one more book with Guido Guerrieri in Carofiglio’s series of procedural novels (is that what you call them when the protagonist is a lawyer? I am not all that sure) as a send-off and that will be it. And I haven’t given a chance to his Penelope series, yet, so I will need to fill the quality-detective-stories void soon and this is a lovely candidate!

The book is just as fun as the Amazon series and I actually managed to follow the three separate plots more distinctly on page rather than on-screen (though knowing what happens probably helped a lot), I can’t wait to go and get the second installment and see if the enjoyment continues!

Carlo is so enjoyable as a character and narrator, he has just the right tone and cheek to pull off telling the events of the plot he is involved in, in a way that lets you enjoy the ride and his continuous bafflement at every absurd new development.

The part of the narration given to the hired killers is just as fun, with all their talk of work ethics and need to appease the wife of the guy-with-the-necktie while the blond-smirky-guy makes fun of him and comes up with the most out-of-place sense of humor in every other scene. I love them!

The part given to the Roma fixers has a different tone from the adaptation and I actually liked it more in the book, as it gives you the time to appreciate details that in the Amazon series were just cut or shortened. It is by far the most serious one out of the three narrations in the book, for good reasons, but at times it felt like the author leaned too much on the “preternaturally wise, old [insert ethnicity here] man” trope. Was it pleasant to read? Sure! Did it also jump out from the rest of the story? Also, sure.

All the investigation and the accidentally-stumbling-on-clues-and-danger was very fun to read and totally engaging, I cannot wait to read more about these characters and what new, absurd situations they manage to end up in!

[izzabeean]

Chapter 7 : Caught

pairing : fushiguro toji x fem!reader

warnings/tags : 18+, alternate universe - office, eventual romance, explicit language.

genre : angst + fluff + smut

word count : 2,685

a/n : wow, it feels like it's been forever even though it's only been 3 weeks. a lot has been going on lately and I haven't had the chance (honestly, and the drive) to update this series. but I am back! please enjoy this chapter. bits and pieces of it are a little more poetic and I love it. thanks again for your support!

18+ minors dni!!!

masterlist  | << prev | ch. 7 | next >>

It's all a blur at this point. The written words on the document, the amount of caffeine circulating in his bloodstream, and the thought of you tugging persistently on his necktie. Of course, that moment just had to be interrupted. Kaito’s impeccable timing was the catalyst to the unusual speed of Toji’s heartbeat pounding in his chest leading to the incapability to focus on his project. But this wasn’t just some unusual palpitating. This was something jarring, a fit of fiery anger that relinquished in the depths of his chest - the utmost nauseating wrath he’s ever endured before. It was like the floor had been pulled from underneath him and he was falling into his own demise as he watched from below Kaito dangle you like a prize in front of him. Toji couldn’t stand the face Kaito made as he walked out of the room as if you claim you as his. You weren’t his. You weren’t anybody’s. 

And this made him want you even more.

“Have a goodnight!”

The sound of your sweet voice pulls Toji out of his thoughts, snapping his gaze to you as you wave to your co-worker. Immediately, your eyes fall on him. Toji isn't trying to hide his eagerness but instead fosters it behind a brutal stare as if to call you over to help him with the project. Even though your hostility towards him is apparent, he knows that he can persuade you easily. He senses a tinge of guilt on your face as you adjust your bag on your shoulder. You smile once more to your co-worker before walking over to Toji’s desk.

“You need something?” You ask, even though you know exactly what it is that Toji needs from you. He finds it endearing that you actually want the verbal confirmation from him to help him out. But Toji couldn’t give you what you wanted - that would make things a lot less entertaining.

“I don’t know,” Toji says with a smug curve on his lips. It’s the type of look that’s dropped women to their knees, begging him for attention. Though he knew that reaction wouldn’t come from you, the twitch of your eyebrow is enough to spark more excitement within. “Is there something you need from me?”

You let out an exasperated, irritated sigh then open your bag to take out the laptop and grab a chair from a nearby empty desk. 

“God your desk is a mess, move your shit out of the way,” you scold pushing his files away to settle in on the corner of the desk.

Quickly he collects his papers piling them up on the opposite side. You don’t say anything more, zoning into the project right away, even more than before and he can't tell if you are just concentrating or mad at him for saying all those things to aggravate you. At the time, it was humorous, but now, some sort of unlawfulness holds him back. It was an odd sensation like he actually feels sorry for what he said. Normally people’s fury fuels his cocky personality, but something about your anger seems to have resonated with him.

A couple of hours of silence pass by and once again, Toji finds himself at a loss for apologies. There’s nothing more sickening than admitting he is wrong. He thinks about asking you to go out for a drink and expects a fifty-fifty percent chance you’ll say yes after staring at a computer for more than you’d have liked. Even though last time you’d declined his invitation, he hopes you’ve been warming up to him more.

“So about that drink,” he says, breaking the peace.

You only look up, eyes looming with judgment. “I don’t recall an invitation.”

“You mean the one you said ‘no’ to the other day?” Toji grunts as he struggles to look you dead in the eye, noting that you were very much over this conversation.

“Why don’t you ask me again?” You tease, leaning in. “Maybe a little bit nicer.”

Toji grins, pausing for effect. “Would you like to go for a drink?”

Your eyes drift up, humming to yourself as you think about it. He’s on the edge of his seat, his heart pounding faster than ever before, watching as you bite your lip. He can’t stand the way you’re making him wait, the absolute impatience that penetrates his nerves. Your presence is infectious, with a sprinkle of indifference, something he’s so attracted to you, he can hardly stand it. Curiosity to understand you more, who you are, and what you’re like. Like what you’d order for your drink? How many can you have until you’re tipsy? If you’d let him fuck you silly or if you’re a brat? These questions rush through his mind waiting for your enticing answer…

“Actually, I should probably get home,” you said, closing your laptop and putting it in the bag. “It’s getting late and if I wait any longer, the train will be full-”

    “'-Of perverts like you,'” Toji groans imitating what you said to him before you left the office. He takes a sip of his favorite golden whiskey before looking over to Kong who is sitting next to him at the bar. Toji hates being called a pervert, he isn't a pervert at all.

“You're not a pervert,” Kong corrects Toji while swirling his drink in his hands. He quickly follows his statement with a quiet chuckle. “Maybe just a man-whore.”

Toji clicks his tongue before shaking his head in disbelief. The frustration he feels towards you pokes at his nerves and the hope that once encompassed his soul relinquished into the smokey taste of alcohol. The second rejection leads him to drink – actually, you lead him to drink. Your toil and torment. Your unfaithful eyes. The way you glare at him in disgust. And yet he finds it even harder to push you from his thoughts. 

“But maybe not so much anymore,” Kong continues. Toji raises an eyebrow, a way to get Kong to elaborate on what he means. Instead, Kong nods in the direction of a woman sitting with her friend at the opposite end of the bar. Toji turns around and the woman sends him a little wave. Remaining expressionless, Toji ignores her and then turns back to face Kong.

Kong whistles. “Wow, you really are coming down with something.” 

“It has to be a cold,” Toji slumps. “I’ve been off all week.”

“Is that so?” Kong pauses, waiting for a reaction from Toji. “Does it have anything to do with Y/N-san?”

“What?” Toji snorts, taking a swig of his drink. The sound of your name makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, but he alludes to the fact that it has to be the alcohol. There’s no way you’re the cause of him not being interested in other women anymore. Not a fucking chance.

“You don’t want to admit anything do you?” Kong chirps.

“What’s there to admit?” Toji doesn’t dare to look over at Kong – afraid that he will notice the uncertainty on Toji’s face.

Kong sighs when noticing Toji’s outright denial. “I’m sure she’ll come around. She just doesn’t know you like I do.”

“What woman does?” Toji asks.

“Your wife.”

Ah yes. The woman Toji was once in love with. The true kind of love that only blooms once. It was a shame her life was cut so short, he swore things could’ve been different with her around. But when she died, he reverted to his old ways, and couldn't even take care of his own kid. 

“How long has it been?” Kong asks.

Toji thinks back to the last time he’d seen her:

The warm glow of the setting sun paints the room in a golden honey canvas. Much unlike the other days, a sense of peace blankets his body. The kind of peace that doesn’t remind him of the days he wallowed in pity and self-destruction. Because all at once, at this moment, he feels alive. More flourishing than any skeptical thought that infected his mind. More than any past mistake that’s melted his ego. Because there she was, lying beside him on the tatami floor reading a book. The smile on her face that saved him from the wreck he was. The perfect image that would forever be ingrained in his memory – something he’s never expected. Because his ignorance stunted by his upbringing finally blossomed into a beautiful thing. He never thought he deserved something so honest and true. But there he was living it. The essence of his being. The will to live a vivacious life. 

“Too long,” Toji whispers.

Remembering her comes in waves, slowly but surely pulling in the good memories but then ending with a crash of anguish. He's not one to reflect, always keeping his thoughts at the shore, always dipping his toes in, never diving too deep. But on days like these, the tide seems to grab hold of his ankles, pulling him into those deep end all at once. Sometimes he feels like he's drowning, reminding him of what he once had. 

Why didn't he hold on tight enough? Why was there no indication of what soon would be a loss? It’s as if the world never wanted him to be happy because of how quickly it slipped from his fingers. His dreams of becoming more intimate all crashed in an instant and the feeling of resentment for falling so far. He was meant to destroy everything he touched, that much he knew.

“Think this is my last drink of the night,” Toji says, throwing back the rest of the drink. 

Kong watches intently as Toji stands up to put on his coat. “Leaving so early?”

“It’s been a long day.”

“You’ve only had like two drinks,” Kong says, alluding that two doesn’t even give him a buzz. It’s common for both men to have approximately eight to nine drinks before they can barely stand. However, that takes Toji a lot of convincing to get to that point as a buzz is a perfect amount to get him by for the rest of the evening. Apparently, not tonight though.

Toji waves back to Kong before exiting the bar. A chilly breeze welcomes him to the frigid night, a way for him to recall the kind of life he lives. Looking out onto the street, people are still walking by, enjoying their evening but as he gazes down he sees a woman sitting alone on the curb with her heels beside her. In normal circumstances he would talk his way into helping her out, getting her home, and bedding her. But now it just seems like too much effort.

When did he even get like this? So impassive with the opposite sex. 

Toji doesn't see you much the next day. It’s like you’re purposely hiding from him in your office, only seeing you walk in this morning, and the rest, well, god knows what you’re doing. He wonders if you’re actually working or distracted by someone else. It’s like he’s craving to speak with you and this incomplete sensation will push him to barely get any work done unless he does so. It’s worse than him craving alcohol. Because with alcohol he can at least savor the taste at the moment, but with you… Every time it’s just not enough.

Standing up from his desk, he finds himself seeking you out, walking down the hallway to your office. Your door is shut when it’s normally open and suspicion crosses his mind as he knocks, straining his hearing to note what’s happening on the other side. But when no one replies, he decides to let himself in.

Worried about what he could potentially walk into, he slowly opens the door. He peeks in expecting to see you sprawled across the desk, legs opened with Kaito over you, when in fact it’s just an empty room. Toji expresses confusion on his face at the idea of maybe you’d slipping out without notice but he sees your laptop is still on your desk with your jacket hung up on a coat rack.

Then a slight groan emerges from behind. He swears he's just hearing things, but then a gasp follows quickly after. Pausing he closes the door behind him and walks further down the hallway. The subtle noises get louder and louder up until he is faced with a janitor closet. He listens closely and hears hushed moans on the other side of the door. 

It has to be you. He recognizes your moan from anywhere. 

Toji stares down at the doorknob wondering what he should do next. It’s as if he has no choice but to double-check it’s you, he has to see what was going on in the closet. Sharp breathes linger in the air and he wonders if he should turn around and stop listening. But this – this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity if he’s ever seen one, so he takes a hold of the handle, and slowly twists the knob, trying not to make a sound. As he does, he very subtly pushes the door open just enough to hear you groan louder. You squeal and it’s the sort of sound that could bring almost any man to their knees, yet for Toji, it is just like a bad porno – ‘The Office Idiot Fucks the Sexy Manager In the Closet.’ Oh but god does he wish it were him, fucking you in the closet, making your toes curl while you are unable to contain your whines. It’s depravity at its finest. He imagines your eyes rolling back and the slight shimmer of sweat on your exposed breasts. You’re so warm and tight, letting out pretty little moans of pleasure as Toji thrusts his rock-hard cock inside you.

If he wasn’t painfully hard right now, he probably would turn around and go. But he finds himself about to touch his groin, placing a hand on the outside of his pants–

“Fushiguro-san, what are you doing?” 

A voice speaks up, surprising Toji. He quickly shuts the door accompanied by a loud slam, cueing the noise from in the closet to keep silent. Looking over his shoulder, a woman stands behind him as he hastily fixes his pants, pushing his dick into the waistband of his underwear. When he turns to the woman she just stares at him blankly. 

“Just looking for some paper,” Toji replies. “The printer was out.”

“Oh well,” the woman laughs as if to hide the fact that she never expected Toji to refill the printer. In all his years of working at the company, he’s never gone out of his way to be helpful to anyone else. But the woman doesn’t seem to care as she said, “It’s in the supplies room.”

“Can you show me?” Toji asks quickly, watching the women try to sneak past him.

“You don’t know where the supplies room is?”

“I’ve never had to reload the printer,” he says. He must look like a fucking moron as the woman gives him a puzzling look.

“Oh - okay?” She says slowly. “Follow me.”

He can practically feel the tension between himself and the closet. He can sense you shaking your head, probably about to rage at him for trying to take a peek. He hopes that you’d at least have the audacity to thank him.

But why? Why did he hope that? You’re obviously not the kind of person to, and neither is he. You’ve been bothered by his presence since he’s found out about your dirty little secret, constantly scowling at him. He used to think that it was because you were worried he’d tell someone about it, but he knows that it’s more than just that. You seem to loathe him entirely, and while he once believed that it was an attempt to get his attention, he wasn’t quite so sure anymore.

You’re just too unpredictable.

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tags: @brumous11 @cosmotoic @slurptheskinoffshiggysfatdick @gojosoath​​

if you wish to be tagged, please comment on the masterpost.

[mrs-dr-reid]

My Personal Peter Parker Headcanons

Part 1/?

He’s a big fan of the Epic Rap Battles of History, so much so that he can tell you which battle is playing after only hearing the first few opening notes of the beat, and he knows all the words for every battle

When Taylor Swift started rereleasing her old albums, he became a hardcore Swiftie. He buys all kinds of merch (for himself and for you if you’re into Taylor’s stuff), he buys whatever album she drops next, and he dives head first into Taylor Nation Twitter, making conspiracy theories about what album is coming next and over-analyzing every single post she or her team makes to see what hints he can find, and you make fun of him even though you do the same thing

When he’s sad for any reason, he becomes a “Blanket Burrito”, aka he lays a blanket on the floor, lays down on the end of it, then rolls himself across the floor so he becomes cocooned in the blanket and just lays there on the floor in whatever position he ends up in after he’s completely wrapped up

He likes leaving little sticky notes around with cute messages on them for you to find, like one on your bathroom mirror that says “you look beautiful today” or one stuck to your car keys that says “you drive me crazy in the best way”, because he must always pun

One of his favorite shows is New Girl, and you always tell him how he’s like a weird combination of Nick and Schmidt, which he agrees with. He also always says “I refuse to pay for the wiffi!” and “Are you the criminals?! From the statistics?!” unironically, so it works

He volunteers at animal shelters in his spare time to hang out with all the dogs and cats because he frickin loves animals, and you have to go with him to prevent him from adopting all of them

He gets really into Doctor Who after finally caving and getting HBO Max, and his favorite Doctor is 11 because he’s an awkward beanpole like he is. You and him even go to New York Comicon as Clara and 11, and he even made his own sonic screwdriver

He needs to buy really strong sunscreen (I’m talking SPF 100) because he burns so easily. Like, he can’t even take out the garbage without putting on sunscreen because if he stays outside just a few seconds longer than he needs to, he has to bathe in aloe gel

He’s addicted to garlic bread. Dude can house an entire box of Texas Toast in one sitting, and still have room for more garlic bread

He can only drink coffee if it’s 90% cream and sugar, or if he can’t tell it’s coffee from the taste of it, so he is in heaven during Pumpkin Spice Latte season, because then he doesn’t have to dump half a container of creamer into his coffee to be able to caffeinate

He tells everybody his favorite movie is Empire Strikes Back, but it’s actually the movie adaptation of Moulin Rouge from 2001. He thinks nobody knows, but you heard him singing El Tango de Roxanne in the shower once. You’ve never told anybody, but only because it’s good blackmail material

For some reason, his spider powers gave him an extreme aversion to peppermint or peppermint flavored things (because apparently spiders don’t like peppermint), so instead of getting weird looks from people when he tells them he doesn’t like peppermint anymore, he just lies and tells everybody that he randomly developed a really bad allergy to peppermint that makes his tongue swell up and gives him a rash so they don’t ask questions

He still can’t tie a necktie, no matter how many tutorials on YouTube he watches, so you always have to do it for him

He starts collecting vinyl records after he found an old record player in a dumpster and fixed it up. You do a bunch of googling to find secondhand record stores near you, and you make a whole day out of wandering around all of them and finding the best deals

He still thinks the screaming goat meme is hilarious, and he still makes edits using that clip to send to MJ and Ned to lovingly harass them

He buys cookie dough with the intention of making cookies, but you guys just end up eating it raw because salmonella be damned

He is a serial phone charger loser, so he always buys the really cheap ones from the dollar store so he doesn’t lose any really nice ones. He’s only had to replace the charging brick once, but he always misplaces the power cord to a point where it’s kind of ridiculous

He acts annoyed when you do it, but he actually loves it when you steal his Midtown Tech sweatshirt because it’s ginormous on you and gives you sweater paws. He also thinks it’s kinda cute when you flap the sleeves around like the absolute dork that you are and pretend to smack him with them

[anhed-nia]

BLOGTOBER 10/1/2021: DRACULA'S DAUGHTER (1936)

Once in a while I pick out a movie about which so much has been said that I feel a little embarrassed pretending I have anything to contribute. DRACULA'S DAUGHTER, Lambert Hillyer's sequel to the 1931 Universal classic, has become essentially synonymous with the concept of the queer-coded villain, and so, many more relevant voices than mine have offered their interpretations of the movie by now. That's your cue to seek out and read any of the many focused LGBT+ considerations of this movie, if that's your bag! Meanwhile...me.

One of the great taglines of all time.

DRACULA'S DAUGHTER picks up directly from the final moments of Tod Browning's DRACULA, with Professor Von Helsing (sic! I assume this had to do with a copyright snafu) coolly explaining to a pair of bumbling bobbies why they've discovered him in the bowels of Carfax Abbey with a freshly staked Count Dracula. As he begins the ordeal of explaining the secrets of the undead to Scotland Yard, the mysterious Countess Marya Zaleska (the glorious Gloria Holden) absconds with the Count's body. A twilight exorcism-by-fire is meant to free her tormented soul from what she calls "the curse of the Draculas", but as her manservant Sandor (Irving Pichel) grimly affirms, it's all for naught. She will have to go on stalking the night...unless she can find a good conversion therapist.

Gloria Holden is unforgettable as the unblinking, self-loathing femme fatale fated to carry on her father's feeding habits. Equal parts Glenn Close and Morticia Addams, she lights up the night with her glittering gaze and hypno-ring, which she uses to seduce and destroy unfortunate souls like Lili (Nan Grey). When Lili agrees to strip for an artist's study of her creamy bust, the Countess drains her of more than her dignity, an indulgence that will be Zaleska's undoing; she turns to smug psychiatrist Dr. Jeffrey Garth (Otto Kruger) for his reputed ability to "release the human mind from any obsession", not realizing that he is already aiding Von Helsing's (Edward Van Sloane) case with Scotland Yard. When Garth is called upon to examine Lili, already having vamps on the brain, he puts two and two together about the guilt-stricken Countess.

Much has been said about Marya Zaleska's apparent craving for female flesh, which is so explicit that it nearly escapes the realm of vampiric metaphor. Her agonized inability to embrace her own outsider nature completes the picture of her queerness, which critic Mark Clark suggests is augmented by Gloria Holden's own ambivalence toward her first starring role. In his book Smirk, Sneer and Scream: Great Acting in Horror Cinema, he remarks, "Her disdain for the part translates into a kind of self-loathing that perfectly suits her troubled character."

But, for my money, just as much of the subtextual heavy lifting is done by the men in DRACULA'S DAUGHTER. By and large, they are either comically impotent, or virulently misogynist, or both, reminding us that the Countess's female troubles are compounded by her disastrously male-dominated environment. Constable Albert (Billy Bevan) sighs and swoons his way through the discovery of Dracula's corpse, and when Dr. Garth most desperately needs help from Scotland Yard, Sir Basil Humphrey (Gilbert Emery) is cocooned in satin sheets sorting out his stamp collection while his long-suffering butler tries to make him take his barley water treatment. Garth himself is a dyed-in-the-wool woman-hater, who we first find on a hunting trip fantasizing about murdering his female patients: "There are a few birds in London I'd like to shoot, and they haven't feathers either!" His ostensibly romantic relationship with his baroness-secretary Janet Blake (Marguerite Churchill) is more hate-hate than love-hate, and her inevitable rescue from the vampire's clutches is more much dryer and chaster than what a distressed damsel can usually expect. Where Bram Stoker's Mina was torn between her earthly love for her fiancé and the supernatural seduction of the vampire, Garth's conflict is between a patient he sees as a prize guinea pig, and a secretary he'd rather shoot to death...but he needs her to tie his necktie for him, something he is not competent to do alone.

DRACULA'S DAUGHTER may not compete with the Lugosi classic, but it has separate virtues that make it worthy on its own terms. Vampire narratives are so often driven by romantic longing, but there is little of that to be found here. Our antiheroine is alienated by her own carnal desires, for which she seeks a shrink rather than a mate, and nothing is to be solved by the power of love, so the creature's eternal loneliness has a different character than what we're used to seeing in these gothic fairytales. That makes of this sequel a much colder dish than expected, and personally, I savor its unique flavor.

If you have not yet done so, you can enjoy this misanthropic monsterpiece right here--and I heartily recommend it:

https://archive.org/details/DraculasDaughter1936

[hillchill]

Thoughts on ACS s03e02

Miscellanea in no particular order, there are minor spoilers.

Still not seeing anyone as their “real life” counterparts except Paulson

Nice to include a friend of Monica’s who warned her about not spilling the beans, it shows one can be a 20something and still have more foresight.

The thong episode seems toned down from what I remember from ML’s recounting. Did it happen like it’s shown here or not? We’ll never know

I don’t know what spin they wanted to give here, but even after various iterations trough the years of ML’s description of the events, with variations like framing them trough the lens of metoo and so on, at least here it’s made clear that Monica kinda took the first step (she declared a crush on WJC). I am yet to understand if they kinda conflated two events, because after ML’s declaration of her crush, we’re told they’ve kissed (I kinda seem to remember that in real life the pizza episode was the one when they first met/kissed? I might be wrong and at this point I don’t want to double check)

“Bill” seems a bit too forward in the first one on one meeting with ML, after she declares her crush on him. Idk, doesn’t ring 100% true

Nothing graphic is shown, but you see “ML and WJC” kiss

Betty Currie is some secondary character, when IRL she facilitated the meetings of ML e WJC and definitely knew what was going on. It has not been explored (yet)

The neckties ML gifted WJC are mentioned (as well as Leaves of Grass. Also, there’s a story where WJC says he saw the book two weeks prior to Election Day of 96? So that kinda makes me feel a little sick to my stomach, when it comes to the whole betrayal of trust from WJC towards HRC, because I always thought WJC was trying to leave ML at this point)

A clip of the Pride and Prejudice BBC miniseries is shown on TV in universe and has the getty images logo? this is a huge oversight for whomever put the series together!!!

I’ve already said you see ML and WJC kiss (twice), which apart from making me feel queasy, makes kinda clear they’re both into it and there’s no coercion

We’re shown a recreation of the ‘96 reelection fireworks hug between WJC and HRC: this is a clip that has been giffed lots here on tumblr or the piece of videohas been shown on here in its entirety and, let me tell you, in reality it was much more emotional and much more of a moment when WJC and HRC held onto each other in 96, than what’s been depicted in the series. If you remember, HRC had teary eyes. Here she is shown briefly in the background. It should’t surprise you I am not happy with this depiction.

I kinda understand why Paula Jones is pissed tbh: I have never heard her speak in depth, but her character seems kinda like a caricature. Also, she’s described by one of the people as “dumb as a rock”

Did ML really gift WJC a knicknack in the shape of a frog? That’s BAD if true, we know it’s HRC who gave him one, don’t know if he already had a collection in part or she was the one to start him collecting with her gift.

The fact WJC told ML she was like “The Face” on the show “Mike Hammer” because he’d see her everywhere he went, sounds like a subtle dig at ML to me... kinda gives you the impression ML was a bit obsessed and a smudge stalkerish

Did ML and Tripp really jot down an EXCEL SPREADSHEET (which is the most bored bureucrat but in-line-with-their-job thing to do), to document WJC’s and ML’s interactions?!

Edie Falco as Hillary makes me want to barf, especially in the scene that recreates the 1996 inaugural ball. There’s no chemistry as the two actors are dancing: they try to copy the whispering between WJC and HRC, but they didn’t capture their expressions of lovey-dovey bliss at all. Edie Falco’s face/expression in general is way harsher than HRC’s ever was and her whole presentation screams tacky, instead of the classiness that exhuded from Hillary that night. Honestly, so far we haven’t seen her much, but she might have already secured the spot of worst casting decision of this series.

Did Bill really whisper to Monica from the stage of the ‘96 Inaugural Ball that he liked the dress she was in? If so, i kinda feel a little sick, since he was there dancing with HRC and apparently being quite smitten with her. Guess we have to rewatch the ‘96 inaugural ball with a magnifying lens.

Delicate subject, but we need to talk about it: ML had a relationship with a guy when she was at the Pentagon. If I remember well he was in his 40s, she also fell pregnant and had an abortion... look, I don’t want to demonise anyone, but I think that knowing she was seeing someone else, instead of pining for WJC 24/7 when she was at the pentagon would be something to know, especially when the series has framed it like she was just doing the latter. Also, ML’s tendency to date much older guys, should showcase a pattern and therefore should be explored.

I really appreciate any comments, I feel like I am both indifferent to ACS, since it doesn’t seem remotely “them” (WJC, HRC, ML...) with regards to aspet/voice/mannerism, but I am also incredibly invested in knowing what was actually true and what have they toned up or down for the series.

[kimkitsuragi]

Final Cut News!

All right, so, by now most people are probably aware that we got a glut of new information about Disco Elysium: The Final Cut yesterday. However, so much content from so many sources can be a bit overwhelming, so I’m making a roundup of links to all the new articles, art, music, and videos I can find, highlighting the details that I personally find interesting.

(under a read more because this will be quite a long post!)

To start with, new official art of Harry and Kim has been released! This art was created by Anton Vill, who did the art for the in-game Thought Cabinet.

ZA/UM's Head of Publishing, Mikk Metsniit, also posted art of Martinaise in the official Disco Elysium Discord. This art has been shared in lower quality before as part of a promotional image for the collector’s edition of Disco Elysium, which will include it as an “illustrated fabric map”. The file Metsniit posted is named “Martinaise Revitalization ‘48.″ In-universe, a design studio previously made an attempt to restore Martinaise to its pre-war state, but ultimately failed. This piece appears to show the planned development of Martinaise--except it’s being swallowed up by the Pale. Fun!

Along with the first piece of art come two new songs by British Sea Power, which will be featured in the final cut:

Advesperascit, named after the city in Vesper-Messina where Dolores Dei was crowned Innocence in-universe. Apparently the name is Latin and roughly translates to “evening comes”

Ignus Nilsen Waltz, named after a prominent communist figure in-universe.

I think these songs will likely be tied to the new political vision quests, which are four new questlines that are each associated with one of the game’s four political ideologies. More information about them, along with other details, can be found in the following articles and videos:

Disco Elysium - The Final Cut Is Like Going From A Black-And-White Movie To Color, article from GameSpot’s Phil Hornshaw. In this article, voice over director Jim Ashilevi talks about adding full voice acting to the game and says that The Final Cut will feature 59 voice actors from countries around the world, chosen to reflect the backgrounds of Revachol’s diverse inhabitants. Lead artist Kaspar Tamsalu speaks about the political vision quests, saying that they will allow the player to meet new characters, learn more about the existing ones, and dive deeper into the politics, secrets, and history of Elysium. Tamsalu also says that The Final Cut will add the ability to fast travel and include Twitch integration, allowing stream viewers to vote on streamers’ decisions and even influence the build of the protagonist.

Biggest Changes In Disco Elysium - The Final Cut, video from GameSpot’s Phil Hornshaw, accompanies the above article. This is a fairly short overview of The Final Cut’s new features as detailed in GameSpot’s article. It includes samples of new voice acting, clips of new animations from the end of the game involving the protagonist and his coworkers (1:47, 2:05), a scene showing a new area added by one of the political vision quests (1:57), and a particularly funny voiced line from Kim (3:22)

‘Disco Elysium: The Final Cut’ comes out March 30. Here’s what’s new.  Article from The Washington Post’s Elise Favis. Includes more details about the political vision quests. According to developer Kaspar Tamsalu, these quests may be started after one in-game day, and are mutually exclusive so that only one may be completed in each playthrough. Jim Ashilevi talks more about the challenge of recording all of the game’s dialogue--more than one million words in total--without outsourcing the work to other studios. Ashilevi also says that he sees ZA/UM as an “art collective”, and “compares his team to the Wu-Tang Clan, in that each person has other creative endeavors, both personal and professional, outside of creating video games.”

Disco Elysium: The Final Cut even gives your horrific necktie a voice. Very brief article from PCGamer’s Fraser Brown. Not much new information in this article, but there is one interesting tidbit: apparently the Horrific Necktie’s voice will be provided by Mikee Goodman, who is one of the game’s voice over directors. Goodman also provides the voices of the Ancient Reptilian Brain, the Limbic System, and several other characters.

Disco Elysium is getting even more political, a long article from PC Gamer’s Fraser Brown. Lead writer Helen Hindpere talks more about the political vision quests, which she says ZA/UM was inspired to add based on fans’ enthusiastic reception of the game’s existing political themes. Hindpere says that the new quests can change the game’s map itself, allowing the protagonist to leave his own mark on the district of Martinaise. The quests will also allow for deeper and more serious exploration of the protagonist’s political views, which were often taken to humorous extremes in the original game. Each quest is different, with some being more wordy and some more visual. The Ultraliberal quest will allow the player to “build a personal brand”, while the communist quest “inspires you to begin a movement”. One quest also adds a new urban location to the game, which Hindpere says reminds her of Berlin. The quests don’t just revolve around a single topic, though; according to Hindpere, "You'll be talking about love, sexuality, hope, ambition, and even about certain geological features specific to our worldbuilding. There's an opportunity to get close and intimate with characters who have thus far seemed unapproachable. Let's say that once you share the same ideology many barriers disappear, allowing you see a different side of many important characters." There will also be a significant amount of new dialogue with Kim Kitsuragi related to these quests.

Disco Elysium PS5 Gameplay - 5 Things You Need To Know, fairly long video from PlayStation Access’ Ash Millman. This video provides some basic information about the game’s premise for new players and shows what the game will look like on PlayStation 5, with a user interface redesigned for the console. The video also includes clips throughout that show some new content, presumably from the political vision quests. Three of these clips seems to be connected: in the first of them, wires are shown that run from the battery of the protagonist’s crashed car to radio equipment set up on and around the statue in the center of Martinaise; in the second, Soona, the radiocomputer programmer from the church questline, can been seen climbing the statue itself to set up some more equipment; and in the third, Soona, Harry, and Kim stand near the modified statue, talking about attempting to contact the flying warship Archer via radio. There are also two other clips: in one, the statue has been splashed with multicolored paints, while in the other the protagonist is seen talking to Idiot Doom Spiral, a local drunk, about hiring him for an unspecified job. Millman also talks about the three different settings that will be available for the game’s voice over: “Classic Mode” will play the same as the original game, with only a few lines voiced, while “Psychological Mode” will provide voice acting for all characters except the protagonist’s internal monologue and skills. The last option, “Fully Voiced Mode” is, well, exactly what it sounds like. There’s also a brief clip that provides a sample of the Horrific Necktie’s new voice (1:26).

DISCO ELYSIUM - The Final Cut (Cuno Voice Example), YouTube video shared by developer Mikk Metsniit. Video is age-restricted. This video includes new voice samples for Cuno, a few of the skills, and Kim. Due to COVID-19, Cuno’s original voice actor, Dot Major, was unable to return, so Cuno is now voiced by Oli Dabiri. Lenval Brown, the narrator of the English language trailers, acts as the game’s general narrator and voice of all 24 skills. Jullian Champenois remains as Kim.

[krustywhore]

a language in itself // moreid

inspired by this doodle by @owlpip / @owlpipscribbles and i just had the cutest idea when i saw it so naturally i wrote this little one-shot<3 fig i hope you like it

Spencer, who was arguably not-so easily frazzled, was currently debating whether or not to lose his shit in front of all of his new coworkers. It was his first day at the BAU, for Christ’s sake, and he was seconds away from making a complete fool of himself in the middle of the bullpen.

With nearly a dozen books in his arms, the arm of his glasses held firmly between his teeth, and a to-go cup of black coffee balanced precariously on top of the stack, he was an accident waiting to happen. He passed interns and desk agents coming and going as he headed to where he was told to meet his new boss, but it was only a matter of time before his adamancy in taking only one trip from his car came back to bite him.

If he had known there was a thick bundle of computer cables wired under the carpeted bullpen floor, he would’ve made it to his new desk without a single problem, but his scuffed Chuck Taylor’s immediately caught the bump of wires and before he knew it books were tumbling to the ground and his full cup of coffee had emptied itself all over…a very attractive man.

Fuck.

His glasses were in his lap, thankfully unbroken, but he hastily put them on only for the blurry man above him to get somehow more handsome.

As if the situation couldn’t get any more humiliating, his face went bright red and he fumbled trying to collect everything off the floor.

“Hey, hey, slow down kid,” the man spoke, making Spencer freeze on his knees, looking back up. “You okay?”

He was certain his heart was seconds away from beating out of his chest.

“Me? I…I’m the one that just spilled hot coffee all over your shirt,” he laughed nervously, wanting to melt into the floor and disappear forever. “I’m so sorry-“

The man laughed and somehow even his teeth were perfect when he smiled.

“Don’t worry about it, pretty boy. One of the benefits of this job is carrying spare clothes around in case we end up skipping town,” the man smirked, picking up some of the scattered books and stacking them up on a nearby desk. “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

Spencer shook his head, still blushing as he felt multiple sets of eyes on him from around the room. He just hoped none of them belonged to his new boss.

“Good, well, I’ll take these for you if you’ll show me where your desk is,” he offered, a dark coffee stain still clear as day in the middle of his navy blue shirt.

Spencer followed uncomfortably behind him before pointing to an empty desk in the corner of the bullpen opposite another desk with a fair spread of files and picture frames adorning it.

“No kidding,” the man chuckled, dropping the stack of books on the desk. “I guess we’re desk neighbors, pretty boy.”

Spencer choked, coughing until he regained his composure as his handsome apparent-coworker pounded on his back to help him.

“Thank you,” he choked out, his throat still groggy. “I…I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

The man’s casual smile dropped and he took on a serious look.

“What do you mean?”

Spencer fiddled with the buttons on his cuffs, thoroughly embarrassed enough for one lifetime.

“I mean that I just spilled coffee all over you and humiliated myself on my first day and…and I clearly don’t belong here if I can’t even make it an hour before causing a disaster, but you’re just so…so nice and historically, guys like you are never nice to guys like me, but you are! And…and I can’t possibly fit in here, I don’t know what Gideon was thinking-”

“Hold up, Jason Gideon? Holy shit, you’re the one he’s been telling us about!” He looked like he was completely gobsmacked, looking Spencer up and down multiple times to the point where the younger man was getting concerned.

“I guess so…?” He explained shyly. “Why, did he not tell you I was twenty-two?”

The other man rubbed the back of his neck and glanced down at his shoes.

“No, no it’s not that it’s...,” he paused, smiling as if he was nervous. “It’s just that I was going to ask you out before I knew we were would be working together.”

Spencer did a double-take and just…stared.

“You…w-what?”

His older counterpart smiled.

“I know it’s technically against the rules but…I would love to take you to get a replacement coffee sometime,” he smirked, leaning up against Spencer’s desk. “What do ya’ say, pretty boy?”

Reid definitely wasn’t any more prepared for the nickname than he was before, but somehow when it followed an invitation for a date, it felt more genuine.

Not that he had ever been asked out before, and especially not by anyone as attractive as the man in front of him.

“I-I don’t even know your name,” he mumbled, desperate for any excuse.

“Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan, at your service,” he grinned, reaching forward to grip the short length of necktie that poked out from underneath Spencer’s sweater vest. “And you are?”

His heart was beating so fast and his head was spinning so dizzyingly that he almost didn’t register the response until it hit him hard.

Derek Morgan.

Fuck, even his name was sexy.

He flushed bright red at the even closer contact and how closely their faces were. Surely Derek wouldn’t do anything in the middle of the office but…but something told him the other man didn’t much care.

“D-Dr. Spencer Reid,” he stumbled, barely getting the words out of his mouth in what was more of a breathy whisper. He nearly blocked out everyone else in the room as his eyes just latched onto Derek’s and refused to look away. “And…I would love to get coffee with you, but I’m paying. Since, you know, I probably just gave you at least a second-degree burn from the last one.”

The beautiful man—Derek, his brain supplied—laughed heartily, his deep brown eyes crinkling at the corners as he reluctantly let go of Spencer’s tie.

“You drive a hard bargain, Doc,” he teased, circling around to his desk only to pull out a small duffel bag from which he produced a light gray henley shirt. “How’s lunch today sound?”

Spencer smiled as the older man began walking backwards slowly, not looking away until he got his answer.

“You know where I’ll be,” he answered, pleasantly surprising himself with his own ability to be coy.

Derek shot him one last smirk before disappearing down the hallway and Spencer was left absolutely dumbfounded by the conversation he’d just had.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled under his breath, sliding off his satchel and depositing it on his desk chair before following the signs to where Agent Gideon’s office was located, as he had been instructed to stop by upon arrival.

His hands were shaking and his heart was still pounding and he was sure that Gideon was going to comment on how red he knew his face would still be, but he was practically floating on cloud nine as he sat down with his pseudo-mentor.

“Spencer, did something happen? You look…stressed,” the older profiler spoke as he stepped into the room. He shrugged in an attempt to be casual, not really wanting to discuss his romantic life with Gideon of all people. Especially when it involved someone they both worked with.

“No, nothing, I guess I’m just excited,” he lied through his teeth, hoping the man who studied behavior for a living and knew him like his own son couldn’t tell he was definitely blowing smoke.

“Right, well, if you’re ready now I can have JJ call the team in for the briefing and you can meet everyone,” Gideon explained and Spencer followed him out of the room and down the hall. He pulled out a chair around the large round table for the younger man to sit down and he moved to stand by a large screen to talk to a blonde woman who didn’t look too much older than he was. She smiled at him as she began pressing buttons on a remote and he gave a quick wave before the room filled with, what he assumed was the rest of the team. As he stood he immediately locked eyes with Derek again, who smirked and set down his files in front of the seat right beside Spencer’s.

“Alright, well as I told you all, this is Dr. Spencer Reid and he’ll be joining our team from now on. Spencer, this is Agent Hotchner, our unit chief, Elle Greenaway, Derek Morgan, our technical analyst Penelope Garcia, and our communications liaison Jennifer Jareau,” Gideon listed, despite the fact that they all could’ve introduced themselves, but he was met with a tight hug from Penelope before he could protest and awkwardly adjusted his clothing afterwards.

He smiled nonetheless and explained that he didn’t do handshakes to the rest of the team before they all filled up the seats around the table with Derek sitting so close that he couldn’t help but notice him in the corner of his eye.

“So, no handshakes?” The other man whispered in his ear as JJ passed around the folders of new case files to the team.

Spencer huffed a laugh under his breath.

“Well, I have a bit of an issue with germs. Did you know shaking hands can transfer over three thousand bacteria between parties? Scientifically speaking, it would be safer to kiss,” he rambled before freezing as he realized the implications of what he had just said.

“Oh, really? Strictly scientifically?” Derek teased, knocking their knees together under the table.

He knew Derek was looking at him but he felt a smirk creep onto his lips as he refused to give in and kept his eyes on the slides JJ was presenting.

“Strictly,” he smirked coyly.

As they all collected their things and took off on the jet, Spencer couldn’t help glancing up from his work every few minutes to sneak glances at Derek from across the plane. He was pleasantly surprised to find that Derek was almost always staring back. Seemingly none of the other team members noticed anything going on between them, or if they did, they graciously didn’t mention it.

It wasn’t long until they landed and made their way to the local police station, all expressing concern that the station’s coffee machine was broken until Derek spoke up before anyone could move on.

“Reid and I will go pick up some coffee and lunch for everyone, I think we passed a cafe just down the street. You go ahead and start here, we’ll be back in no time,” he offered, nudging Spencer with his elbow until the younger man followed him out the door and into one of the parked SUV’s. “So, does now work for you to take a quick coffee date?”

Spencer laughed, relaxing already as Derek pulled out of the parking lot.

“Now sounds perfect.”

[aion-rsa]

Unforgotten: the Clues in the Titles and Why Every Detail Matters

https://ift.tt/3b8wdBf

Warning: contains spoilers for Unforgotten series 1-3

“You’d be surprised,” says Peter Anderson, creative director of the studio behind the title sequences for hit ITV crime drama Unforgotten. “You can show something really on-the-nose, and people won’t get it until they’ve been told. We fret and worry about giving too much away but the clue is only triggered when you know the context.”

Each 40-second title sequence for Unforgotten is a curated collection of purpose-filmed scenes designed to go where the drama can’t – namely, inside the characters’ heads. Every series starts with the discovery of a long-buried body, then introduces viewers to a guest cast of characters whose connections to each other, and to the historical murder, gradually unfold. It takes six episodes to solve the mystery, but right from the start, the abstracted and symbolic images created for the title sequence already hold all the answers. 

“Some of the images are big clues,” explains Anderson. “With the current series titles, there were some things that were taken out and then went back in, that are incredibly poignant, really incredibly amazing clues, I can only be ambiguous about it at this stage.”

Our new titles, full of little teasers and clues. Made by the brilliant @PAndersonStudio #OneDayMore #Unforgotten 4 https://t.co/rE5XAo5lx6

— Chris Lang (@ChrisLangWriter) February 21, 2021

How the series four title sequence relates to the new story, airing on Mondays at 9pm, is currently anybody’s guess. The meaning behind its images – a smashed car window, an allotment, a discarded fountain pen, to pick just three – will only become apparent after the finale. “You should have a relationship with the title sequence that grows as the drama grows,” says Anderson. Look back the title sequences for previous Unforgotten series and that’s exactly so – they’re transformed by hindsight.

Take the series two montage, which opens with a shot of a pub table and three empty drinking glasses. Atmospherically, it’s a lonely image, but hardly ominous. In the finale, the scene is revealed to be a turning point in the investigation as the place where the murder suspects gather and the truth is finally told. It’s a terrible truth about three lives irreparably damaged by childhood sexual abuse, and provides the answer to another title sequence mystery. The dreadful significance of a previously unexplained shot of an empty yellow tent is made clear in a heart-rending monologue from Mark Bonnar, who plays lawyer Colin. The abuse Colin suffered as a child began aged nine, on a camping trip. Each week, viewers have been shown the tent from his memory – a formative moment that haunts the titles in the same way it haunts the character.

“That’s one of those occasions where the titles are showing you something awful and poignant, a game-changer,” says Anderson. “In a way, the tent is the scene that forms the whole story of the drama, but it’s in the titles. It’s not a flashback, it’s been allowed to be in this other place, this place that says to you, ‘Before you watch this drama every week, think about some of these things’.”

Copyright: Peter Anderson Studio

Not every image is necessarily a clue. “Some of them are setting the scene, some of them are memories that form the characters, some of them are about placing the different time zones that you’re in.” Unforgotten is a time-travelling series, says Anderson. “The titles are showing us that we will be in memory.”

All four series titles share the visual metaphor of unsettled dust motes floating from scene to scene. “It’s talking about how, the moment Cassie and Sunny (the show’s detective leads played by Nicola Walker and Sanjeev Bhaskar) come knocking on your door with news or an accusation, it unearths a whole series of events, whether you’re innocent or guilty. The dust, your past, is unsettled. That thread follows through all the title sequences, it’s about the everyday becoming disrupted and changed.” 

Clues and reminiscences are purposely blended in the Unforgotten titles. Some memories may be more important than others, but nothing is frivolous, says Anderson. In the series two sequence, even a glimpsed pan of peas boiling on a stove feeds into the working class roots of a now wealthy, knighted business tsar. “Even the peas have a job to do because they’re taking you back inside the head of a character.”

“One that pops to mind is a car crash scene from the series one titles. It’s the moment that one of our characters was in the crash that put him in his wheelchair. That’s not something shown in the drama, but that’s a moment that formed that character, a lot of his traits come out of this awful thing that happened.”

Read more

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Why Unforgotten fans should read Reservoir 13

By Louisa Mellor

Title scenes are a different type of narrative that hark back to the silent movie era, Anderson explains. “It’s about subtly extending the storytelling, extending the characters through their memories, taking you to a place that formed them that the drama doesn’t have the time to show. It might be referred to in dialogue, but we can actually make it in the titles.”

They can make it, but not wanting to give the game away, they also have to obscure it. “Something that seems abstract often is laced with meaning,” he says, citing a tiny snippet in the series three credits where we see a close-up of a deer’s eye. The deer turns out to be a plot point, as the animal hit by an underage driver whose father suspects him of having killed the victim. In the same sequence, a poetic scene shows grass and flowing water. “To the viewer that will just be abstract and atmospheric, but actually, that’s the moment when the river broke its banks and carried away the body.”

The Unforgotten titles incorporate the settings used in the show, but – until this series because of last year’s Covid-19 restrictions on set visits – were always purpose-filmed by Anderson’s studio and not compiled from existing footage. They’d pop in to a set while the production was on lunch and get the coverage they needed, borrowing key props and costumes. That’s how a necktie worn by a character revealed to have a sadomasochistic fetish is glimpsed binding the hands of a young woman (a Peter Anderson Studios intern, being useful on her first day) in the series two sequence. A suitcase used to contain and dispose of a murder victim is spotted sitting innocently at the bottom of a wardrobe. “We have access to all the costumes, the props, the poignant clues from the drama itself. The detail that’s in there comes direct from the drama.” 

Copyright: Peter Anderson Studio

Each Unforgotten title sequence begins life as around 100 short scenes written by Anderson after reading all six of that series’ scripts. It’s unusual to be granted such breadth of access in TV drama, which is part of what makes the title work on Unforgotten so special. The entire Mainstreet Pictures team, from creator and writer Chris Lang to the producers and directors, collaborate on whittling down the list of scenes until they say everything they need to, without giving anything away. 

This kind of devotion from a production company to a TV title sequence is rare in the UK, says Anderson. He’s experienced it precious few times in his career: with Neil Gaiman creating the stunning 2D animated titles for Good Omens, with Steven Moffat and the producers of BBC One’s Sherlock and Doctor Who – for which his studio made the series seven titles starring Matt Smith – and here, on Unforgotten.

Lang tells Den of Geek that he’s never worked on a series with such a symbiosis between the titles and the drama. “We meet at late script stage, when the characters are fully formed, and then we decide together which echoes, teases and clues we want to put in to the opening sequence.” Lang describes the titles for each series as a mini drama of their own, easing the audience into the world of the show. In dramatic and storytelling terms, he says, the titles do a lot of heavy lifting.

“Chris will say ‘Can we add this scene? Because this is why that character was formed’, explains Anderson. “I can’t extend a character’s story in the way that the writer can. He knows implicitly how he’s formed his characters, he knows their past. He knows which memories are important”. It’s about understanding the detail of every bit of storytelling, “that even a half-second snippet really matters.”

Copyright: Mainstreet Pictures

One character-forming scene that’s only a half-second snippet in the series three titles shows a young child being hugged by a woman. The costume, backdrop and lighting suggest the 1960s, putting us in the realm of memory. In that half-second, Anderson confirms, we’re inside the mind of Dr Tim Finch, an extremely damaged man played by Alex Jennings.  “It’s just meant to be a flicker of time showing an overbearing mother that formed part of his character. If you look at the detail of that shot, what’s important is the fact that he’s being smothered and the smothering therefore has a psychological effect on him growing up.” 

Another key memory scene – a child’s-eye perspective of a woman peeling potatoes at a sink, which relates to the moment a character told her mother she was being abused by her father – was coincidentally filmed in the same location: Anderson’s kitchen at home. “I have a 1950s house with a genuine 50s kitchen with a genuine 80s wall with a genuine 70s floor, so as a location, it’s utterly fantastic for time travel,” he laughs, angling his laptop camera down to show a tiled floor fans will recognise from several of the Unforgotten title sequences. 

In the US, Anderson explains, TV titles are highly paid for, but in Britain it remains a lo-fi business. When his studio created the fast-paced title sequence for high-profile Sky One drama Lucky Man, for instance, instead of closing the roads and wiring up a street with cables to film the fast-paced street scenes, they did it using an actor from Starlight Express roller skating through London wearing a GoPro.

Copyright: Peter Anderson Studios

Series two’s yellow tent scene was filmed using vintage camping equipment pitched in the park next to Anderson’s home. “That was me and a cinematographer on the side of a hill. We set it up meticulously with an oil lamp from the period. We wanted the light to be perfect, so for just that one scene we probably spent between three and four hours shooting.”

A television drama often won’t have the time to be so indulgent with its photography, he says. For the series three titles, his studio shot Bristol Bridge in the early hours of the morning, starting off in the dark and the snow, waiting until the light was just so. Production arranged the official permissions, the hotel, everything so that Anderson’s team could film just two scenes of no more than a few seconds each. It’s proof, he says, of how much everybody involved cares and how every detail matters – something well worth remembering the next time your finger hovers over that ‘Skip Intro’ button.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Unforgotten series 4 continues on Mondays at 9pm on ITV1.

The post Unforgotten: the Clues in the Titles and Why Every Detail Matters appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/303o3nf

[theunknowncryptid]

Part Five - The Hogwarts Champion

Next

Masterlist

Yoongi x y/n

After a horrible prank, Slytherin, Min Yoongi, is entered into the Triwizard Tournament. Y/n, feeling responsible, decides it’s her personal mission to make sure he survives the ordeal

~        ~        ~

Yoongi turned off his phone in annoyance and pushed it away across the table. It was nearly half past nine and the library would be closing soon. A quick glance around told him that he was the only one remaining. Everyone else had filtered out to either catch up with their friends after summer vacation or study in their common rooms. Becoming more annoyed that he had wasted his precious studying time texting, Yoongi began to stack up the several books that he had spread across the table. The pile reached higher than his head once he had grabbed them all. Carefully, he maneuvered around the table and began to place the books back in their rightful spots on the shelves. Yoongi grumbled quietly to himself as he recalled his conversation from minutes before. 

Who does Y/n y/l/n think she is? 

He placed a book down harder than necessary, with a thud. Yoongi wasn’t about to share his life with some stranger. Especially an overly energetic, goofy stranger. He ripped away his hand just in time as he put down the Monster Book of Monsters and it snapped at him viciously. Yoongi moved further through the aisles of books, remembering this afternoon's potions lesson.

“Min Yoongi and Y/n y/l/n” Snape called out. Yoongi’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his mind drawing a blank. Y/n? He thought. He looked around at the classroom, studying the faces of the Slytherins and Gryffindors. No one was moving and for a second Yoongi had the euphoric thought that he would be partnerless this term. He could happily work on his own and not be forced to make pointless small talk with a partner. His hopes were dashed quickly with the sound of a wooden stool scraping against the stone flooring. Yoongi turned and looked over his shoulder to find the source of the noise. A Gryffindor girl was gathering her books and shoving a cell phone into her pocket. She seemed slightly caught off guard at being called on and large eyes darted across her items to make sure she had everything before joining Yoongi.

“Sometime today, Miss y/l/n” Snape drawled out like a hiss. Y/n pulled her lips into soft line as her cheeks flushed pink. She hurried forward and took her place next to Yoongi. With her close proximity, Yoongi could now hear the phone in her robe pocket buzzing rapidly. Snape continued on with the partner assignments and the eyes that had been on Yoongi and Y/n found other interests. As she re-opened her books, Yoongi took the opportunity to look at the girl. Something about her bothered him. Her hair was pulled into a loose bun and pieces were falling out shielding parts of her face from Yoongi’s view. The parts that Yoongi could see were nothing extraordinary. Pale skin, pink lips, with natural makeup. She smelled faintly of vanilla and… Men’s cologne? 

Yoongi was still staring at Y/n when she looked up at him. He jolted and his attention was back on the lesson in a matter of seconds. Irritation and embarrassment flooded his system when she spoke.

“Hi” Yoongi only nodded slightly at her greeting.

He chose to ignore her for the rest of the lesson and since it was the first day and they didn’t have any partner work it was fairly easy. After an hour, the bell rang and Yoongi had forgotten the staring incident. He packed up his books and threw his bag over his shoulder, thankful that the end of the day had arrived. 

“Hey, Yoongi!” Yoongi turned back to his work table that he had been walking away from. Y/n stood there smiling. “Do you want to exchange phone numbers? You know- for class.” She asked. 

“Uh.. Sure.” He mumbled. Yoongi fumbled in his pockets for a scrap piece of parchment. He scratched his number onto the paper and passed it to Y/n.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Y/n chirped brightly. She exited the potions classroom with Yoongi staring dumbfounded after her.

Yoongi placed his last book on the shelf and turned back to collect his things from the library table. Remembering his encounter with the Gryffindor annoyed him again. Something about her set him off. Yoongi didn’t know if it was the constantly texting friends, the way she spoke, the half-smile that made her look like she was always daydreaming, or something else entirely. 

When she had texted him asking to meet up to work on the first assignment, Yoongi decided that it was inevitable and that sometimes life is working with people you don’t enjoy. But, then she dug further and started asking him personal questions. Yoongi can barely tolerate people he likes asking about him. So, to make the point clear, Yoongi snapped.

He pulled his remaining books into his bag and placed it over his shoulders. He gave a polite nod to a smiling Madam Pince as he exited the library into the abandoned hallway. Yoongi spent so much time in the library over the years and Madam Pince had become fond of him, offering book recommendations and the occasional homework help.

As he made his way down to the Slytherin common room, Yoongi gave a deep sigh and loosened his necktie. He started to become lost in thought again as he walked the familiar steps. Feelings of guilt started to prick in his brain. Jin had asked him specifically not to be rude to Y/n and that’s exactly what he had done. Apparently, the girl was some kind of fucking Mother Teresa and the Gryffindors were very protective of their princess. Yoongi supposed that he should feel guilty for upsetting Y/n, but he didn’t. He felt guilty for disappointing Jin. 

Yoongi was just 8 years old when he moved in with Jin and his family. His grandmother, who had cared for Yoongi up to that point, had died after a heart attack. They had lived together in the wizarding village of Appleby. It was just the two of them, but their household was busy and joyful because of the family next door. The Kim’s. Yoongi and Kim Seokjin became best friends at a young age and it was if their families melded to accommodate the boys. They would play in Min’s living room and then run across the property to swing on the Kim’s swing set. Jin’s parents and Yoongi’s grandmother would also come and go into each others houses as they pleased, sharing stories and playing cards on the porch. It was as close to perfect as life can be. But, when Yoongi’s grandmother died, no other family was willing to claim guardianship of Yoongi. So, Yoongi moved in with the Kim’s and they became his legal guardians. At first, Yoongi thought that this was the best case scenario and, hopefully, not much would have to change. As he got older, he learned differently. He knew the Kim’s loved him like another son, but he was a financial burden that was difficult to support. They didn’t have the money to move, so he and Jin had to share a room and Yoongi had to watch another family move into the home he had shared with his grandmother. 

Yoongi didn’t know what would have happened to him had he not moved in with the Kim’s, but he did know that he would have been without a family and alone. Yoongi owes everything he has to Jin and his family. 

That’s why disappointing Jin in anyway made Yoongi feel guilty beyond belief.

Once they got to Hogwarts, Yoongi was placed in Slytherin and Jin in Gryffindor. They still remained best friends (if not brothers), but Yoongi found it difficult to make his own friends. He tried, but always found himself putting up walls and creating a distance between any new friendships. Relationships came easy to Jin, though, and Yoongi managed to make his only other friend, Hoseok, through Jin. He counted himself lucky to have the friends that he did, but still, a lot of the time he felt lonely. As if he was disconnected from the world around him.

Being separated from everyone except Jin and Hoseok made Yoongi weary and suspicious of strangers reaching out to him. 

That’s probably why I’m such a dick

His thoughts traveled to Y/n again as he reached the Slytherin portrait and muttered the password. He didn’t bother to try and socialize in the common room and headed straight for the stairs that led to the boys dormitory. Yoongi knew he would have to apologize to Jin for his behavior toward Y/n and ran a hand over his face as he thought about what to say to both Gryffindors.

I’ll figure it out in the morning.

~ ~ ~

The silence in the Great Hall broke with the sound of muffled curses and light footsteps. The ceiling of the dark hall showed a cloudy night sky. The four tables belonging to the individual houses guided the way to the only source of light in the room. A large goblet filled with white-blue flames. The disruption to the stillness came in the form of two sixth year students moving as silently as they could into the hall. Jeon Jungkook and Kim Taehyung. The pair were whispering to each other in harsh tones. 

“I’m just saying, if you were taking potions she wouldn’t be stuck with that dick.” Taehyung whispered. Now that they were in the Great Hall completely, the boys walked side-by-side towards the glowing goblet in front of the head table.

“I’m not switching back! I had to badger McGonagall all summer so I could join Dark Arts Studies.” Jungkook whispered back. Dark Arts Studies was a new, controversial class added to the Hogwarts curriculum a few years back. It was only available to select students joining the Auror and Medic career fields. Because of the low amount of students in the class, it combined Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin students. Taking the class made it impossible for Jungkook to attend Gryffindor potions with the rest of his year, so he attended with the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. “Plus, the way things are now, we get to be potions partners!”

“I know.” Taehyung conceded. “I’m just worried about her being around that guy.” The pair reached the goblet and stood together for a moment, staring up at blue flames. Taehyung looked over at Jungkook in the firelight. His face was lit up with light blue and his jaw was set in locked determination. The flames that flicked out towards the pair reflected in the younger boys eyes. Watching it was hypnotizing.

“Taehyung?” Taehyung flinched back and realized that Jungkook was speaking to him. “I asked if you had the parchment?”

“Oh, yeah,” He said, pulling a slip of paper out of his sweatshirt pocket. A name could be clearly seen written on the parchment.

Min Yoongi

“Last chance to back out” Jungkook offered quietly, meeting Taehyung’s eyes. Taehyung shook his head. 

“No. It’s what he deserves.” Taehyung smiled slightly, as if it was all a big joke. “What’s the worst that could happen really?” Jungkook smirked and shrugged his shoulders. Taehyung held the slip of paper out to the younger boy and Jungkook placed the tip of his wand on the paper.

“Deligantur” Jungkook whispered. The paper seemed to shimmer and give a slight wave before settling just as it was before.

“Are you sure this will work?” Taehyung asked, turning to look at the large goblet in front of them.

“It should.” Jungkook assured. “Ready?” Taehyung nodded and, without hesitation, reached forward and dropped the slip of paper into the goblet. The fire burst upward, forcing Taehyung to take a step back. The flames changed from blue to blood red. Then, after a few seconds, the fire returned to its normal state of white-blue, low flames.

“Congratulations, Min Yoongi.” Muttered Jungkook. “You are the Hogwarts Champion.”

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

“Catch Boys Wearing Loot,” Border Cities Star. February 20, 1930. Page 05. ---- Four Lads Had Led Children’s Shelter in Windsor ---- LONG PREPARATION ---- Food and Clothing Had Been Stolen to Meet Needs of Adventure ---- Search of nearly a month’s duration by Detective Sergeant E. C. Hazen of the Walkerville police, came to a successful conclusion yesterday when two boys, wearing goods stolen January 26 from Adelman’s Department store, corner of Ottawa street and Windermere Road, were caught, in company with two of their mates fom the Windsor Children’s Shelter, at Tilbury. They were on their way to Chatham and points east.

COLLECT LOOT Plans for the break from the Windsor institution had apparently been arranged in the ealry part of January and provisions made to counteract the effect of a long, hard winter. So entrance was made into the store and three suit cases packed with the necessary articles of wearing apparel. When the suit cases were full as many articles as possible were placed on the persons of the two youthful burglars and with their loot they managed to get-away.

The suit cases were discovered a few days later when they had been hidden under a small ice station on Moy avenue near Wyandotte street, but the remainder of the goods was not captured until yesterday.

The boys had attended the Park Street school Tuesday morning and started on their trip with two of their friends from the shelter shortly after noon. ‘And we wouldn’t have been caught either,’ said one of the older boys, a lad of 13, this morning, ‘if one of us hadn’t got hungry and asked the station agent at Tilbury for something to eat. This boy kept us back too. He was tired all the time and was away behind the rest of us. We had to stop every once in awhile and wait for him to catch up.’

BEING DETAINED The boy who told the story is being detained in Walkerville cells and according to M. R. Winters will be sent to Industrial school in Toronto. He is the one who engineered the theft from the Ottawa street store.

On Tuesday night they were nearing Tilbury and decided to sleep in a convenient haystack. Three of them slept while the forth kept a weary watch over his mates to see that they would not be the victims of a surprise attack.

Arrived at Tilbury early the following morning the smallest boy could not stand off the pangs of hunger and approached George Wallace, C.P.R. station agent for food. Mr. Wallace questioned the boy who admitted that they had run away from the shelter.

RUN DOWN TRACK The other three immediately started to run down the track but encountered a crew of section hands. They captured the runaways after a protacted chase during which the boys dodged around trees and brought them to the station.

They explained that they were on their way to Chatham, ‘maybe to Toronto,’ and were found to possess total capital of 45 cents,

Sergeant Hasen and Constable Carl Taylor, of the Walkerville Police, were notified and despatched to bring the boys back. Then it was found that two of them had been involved in the theft. These boys were wearing articles of clothing which had been stolen. In their explanation to the matron of the shelter they had explained that the clothes had been given them by friends.

PLENTY OF LOOT According to Sergeant Hazen, the suit cases when found had been packed with masterly skill. The first contained one overcoat, one blue suit, one grey suit, three pairs of pants, two slickers, one pair of tan shoes, one pair of black oxfords, one pair of fawn spats, one pair of grey spats and two belts.

In the second were three aviator’s caps, one grey cap, two pairs of blue pants, one pair of khaki pants, one pair of grey pants, three handkerchiefs, one towel, one red handkerchief, two scarves, five pair of socks, two neckties, one pair of running shoes, one pair of black overshoes, one pair of brown sippers, one pair of gauntlets, one pair of woolen gloves, several pairs of shoe laces, one pullover sweater, one suit of underwear, one brown cap and three shirts.

In the third suitcase were found one pullover sweater, one grey cap, one pair of blue pants, one pair of brown pants, two pairs of grey pants, one pair of blue pants, one pair of brown pants, two pairs of rey pants, one black pull-over sweater, a pair of macjinaw socks, one suit of underwear, one cap, three neckties, four white shirts, three collars, two scarves, one pair of slippers, one pair of running shoes, and one pair of gauntlets.

SORRY NOW ‘I am sorry now that we took the stuff and I know we shouldn’t have done it,’ said the older bay as he talked this morning the cell bars. ‘But we wanted to run away from that place and we had to have enough clothes. We don’t know where our father and mother are and they wouldn’t tell us. We talked it over with the other two boys and we decided to go together. One of them runs away every chance he gets.’

The parents of the two boys who entered and stole the merchandise from the Walkerville store are at present serving sentences in Guelp Reformatory as the culmination of a family row. The mother renounced all association with her children rather than return to live with her husband. She is serving a six months’ term and the father one of three months. They lived at a Lincoln Road addrss in Walkerville.

[astrozones]

Sanders Behavioral Health, Chapter 1: Virgil Starts Freaking Out More Than Usual

Trigger warning: mental health stuff. Major mental health stuff. For the whole fic.

Group Therapy AU. Prinxiety and Logicality eventually.

Three hours.

Three goddamn hours of his life dedicated to therapy. Every. Single. Day.

Except weekends. At least he still had his weekends.

When his father had told him of the “amazing” news, Virgil was seriously rethinking going back to his old family.

Coming from an abusive home to a place where others cared about him was jarring, to say the least. Parts of it he adored. Not being punished for coming home a couple minutes late? He couldn’t say he wasn’t grateful. But since his time at his new family’s house, he had been diagnosed with anxiety, depression, and a hint of OCD. And when his parents put him in therapy for the first time, he found it dull, but a good escape from his bad thoughts.

But when his therapist suggested Sanders Behavioral Health, he was apprehensive. Even more so when she told him that three hours of his day would be dedicated to working on his anxiety. His social anxiety, mostly. Virgil had stared at her in disgust, why would he ever want to go there? Why would he want to go somewhere that would give him more anxiety, on purpose, rather than stay at home scrolling through YouTube?

He was even more disgusted when his adoptive father had happily agreed to look into it.

Yes, Virgil wanted to get better. God, he wanted to get better so bad, to be away from the thoughts that plagued his mind. That’s what he told himself, at least.

Maybe he didn’t want to get better. Maybe he wanted to stay in his room all day because that was what he was used to. He was content at this stage, and so what if he was destroying his future and the potential for happiness? He was here now and he was content, wasn’t that good enough?

He would never say that to his therapist. If he did, she would tell his dad, who would in turn tell his mom, and they’d worry about him more. If this was the life he had to live, then so be it.

So here he was, in the lobby room of the building he had dreaded coming to since they made the first call to get him into this institute. He hunched over in his hoodie, idly scrolling through his phone, trying to collect his thoughts. What if he made a mistake? What if it turned out he had been faking it this whole time and they got mad? What if he did something embarrassing? Oh, god, what if they hated him? What if-

The lobby door slammed open. Virgil jumped in his seat, his father gently putting a hand on his shoulder. In stepped a boy that looked just about the same age as himself. Oh, for the love of-

“I HAVE REETUUURNED~,” the boy sung, arms spread as wide as he could with a binder in his hands. “No need to fear, your Prince is here!” Virgil pursed his lips.

“Yeah, ‘prince’, my ass.” he mumbled, looking back down at his phone. The boy spluttered indignantly, to Virgil’s confusion. That wasn’t even a good insult, so why was the boy getting mad at him? Oh god, oh shit, I already made an enemy-

“Roman, please just sign in.” The front desk lady said with a small smile. The boy, or rather, Roman, blushed, with an “oh, right” as he did as he was told.

Roman slumped down in a seat, turning to the only other kid in the room.

“So, Mr. Professionalism, I know it’s only my second proper day here, but what’s with the tie? You wear it every day or somethin’?” Roman’s posture remained slouched and easy-going, the opposite to the other, who was indeed wearing a tie. Tie guy’s posture was pristine and collected, his face not revealing any emotion, except a slight glare.

“I do not. I wear a different tie every day. It is unsanitary to wear the same thing every day. And when I sleep, I change into the proper wear. I would also like to point out that it’s pronounced some thing . With a g. Proper pronunciation is important, lest you confuse someone who is not as knowledgeable with our language. And my name, is Logan. Thank you.” Logan, apparently, finished his monologue with hardly a change in expression. Both Virgil and Roman looked a bit disoriented.

“Allllrighty,” Roman started, ignoring Logan’s hiss of “it’s pronounced al right ”, “Welp, glad to see I’m not the only one who’s early! Don’t you think the weather is great today? So sunny!”

“I do not wish to engage in small talk.” Logan said, returning to his book. Roman blinked at this, his head darting back a bit. He quickly returned to his confident persona and turned to Virgil.

Oh no , was his only thought before he was forced into conversation.

“SOO, Emostein, what’s your opinion on the weather? Since Necktie over there refuses to be nice, that is.” Roman said with a flourish of his hand.

What was he supposed to say? That he never went outside enough to appreciate the weather? That he would rather not say anything? That this whole thing was pushing him to the verge of a panic attack?

So, instead, he murmured, “Emostein?”. Goddamn it, that was dumb-

“Why yes! Like Frankenstein, but judging by your apparel, I had assumed you were emo and listen to My Chemical Romance all day. Am I wrong in this?”

Virgil shoved his head in his hands, blushing from embarrassment. “Ugh, no, you’re not. You don’t need to point it out, though…” He grumbled. God, he hated social situations. Even if it distracted him from the anxiety surrounding this new therapy group.

Whether he had bad luck, or the fates hated him, he couldn’t decide as the door to the rest of the building opened in perfect irony.

“Virgil?” The woman called with a smile. He hugged his few items closer to him as he stood up, making his way through the entrance. He glanced back at the lobby, where yet another kid was entering.

Then, the door was closed.

--

The woman introduced herself as Rebecca, or Becca for short. She led him on a quick tour of the building before the others were scheduled to come in, something he was grateful for. The place was smaller than he expected. She led him through the cafeteria (a cafeteria? what?), the doors of a couple staff, the bathroom, the check-up room, and the individual rooms. The individual rooms, as she explained, were for when you needed to focus on an ‘exposure’ and couldn’t handle distractions from other people.

Virgil quickly decided he liked these rooms.

Becca let him choose a room, and had him write his name on the whiteboard in front of it. As he did, he heard the entrance door open and a loud voice groan out, “UGHH, but I don’t wanna go in yet!”. Uh oh, people alert! He quickly slipped into the room, Becca joining him soon after.

“While you’re in this program,” she started. “you will be doing exposures, which means you’ll be directly facing the anxiety. It’ll be tough, but the goal is, when you get out of the program, you’re more used to these situations, and when you encounter them, you don’t freak out as much.” At that, she smiled, as if she hadn’t just diminished his already depressed mood.

“Does that sound good?” Becca continued, tilting her head to the side. Virgil stared at her as if she just told him the Sun was purple (not that he would mind that… purple was a very nice color.).

“Not really,” came his reply. “sounds terrible.”

Becca’s smile became just a little more stressed.

“I get your point, but I disagree. See, here and now, you’re not okay. Do you agree?” she stated flatly, and at his small nod, continued, “It’s because you’ve been in this slump for too long. It’s ruining your mood, and unless you do something about it, it’ll just get worse. If you want to get better, you have to do something about it.”

Virgil sighed. Yes, he understood, but he had the right to dislike this.

Becca explained a few more things about the program before handing him a small stack of papers and leaving him to mull over in his silent suffering.

He doodled in between the questions he had just answered as he waited for Becca to come back. Just the classic questions, ‘What do you want to work on while here at Sanders?’, ‘How would you describe your average mood?’, ‘What is (or are) your diagnosis?’, etc.. He glanced at the clock. 5 minutes. He tapped his foot. Fiddled with his hoodie strings. Kicked at the wall. 10 minutes. Hm.

Sanders Behavioral Health had a rule against phones being in the building, for privacy reasons… but, taking a glance around, he couldn’t see any cameras. And he had snuck his phone in by slipping it into his boots when no one was looking. Then there was the fact that no one was in the room with him…

Whipping out his phone, he quickly found a position where his phone was hidden enough that the average passerby wouldn’t notice and opened it up. What to do, what to do…

He scrolled through Tumblr, and responded to a few messages on Discord. He was in the middle of typing one out when there was a knock on the door.

Jumping, Virgil quickly turned to the door while desperately trying to hide his phone. He couldn’t fit in past his shoe in time, could he hide it in his hoodie so the visitor wouldn’t see it? Think fast befo-

The door opened, a stranger walking in. The stranger smiled.

“Hello! I’m Nurse Vicki. You’re Virgil, right? I need you for just a moment so we can do checkups, if you’ll come with me!” Vicki grinned, holding the door open wider. Virgil slid the phone into his hoodie pocket. There was a chance of it being noticed, but it would have to do.

When brought into the nurse’s office, she sat him down and started asking questions.

Are you suicidal? Yes.

Are you going to school regularly? No.

Are you eating healthy? Probably not.

And on, and on, and on, until finally, she took him to track his weight and vitals, and escorted him back to his room. Still no Becca.

The second Nurse Vicki left, Virgil quickly took his phone out and situated it where it wasn’t easily visible in his boot. Yes, it did rub against his foot painfully, but that was just the price he’d have to pay. Without his phone, he felt even more anxious. He knew it was stupid, but what if he got a call? What if he got hurt? What if someone else got hurt? Virgil needed the phone, and if that included sacrificing his comfort, he would do it.

Now, what was he supposed to do? 20 minutes had passed. He studied the vandalism done in pencil on the wall, but that quickly got boring.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

He drummed his fingers on the table.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

He thought about what he was going to do tomorrow- wait, no, that gave him more anxiety.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

Sighing, he leaned back and studied the ceiling. Maybe he could fall asleep here. Or maybe he’d just get in trouble for that.

After what seemed like ages, Becca returned. Gathering up the papers, she led him outside the room.

“We aren’t going to start anything today, but I’ll show you the timers and computers. Here’s the check in sheet for them,” she motioned to the top of the computer cart, a basket with multiple stopwatches in it next to the sheets. “and the top row of computers are assessment computers, while the bottom are normal computers. Today, you’ll be getting an assessment computer.”

Stepping aside, she let him check out a computer. As he was writing down his name, another person came in from a second hallway. The loud boy from before- Roman?- glanced in their direction before doing a double take. Cringing slightly, Virgil prepared for Roman to burst out with a loud “hello!”.

Only Roman did nothing of the sort. Once Becca greeted him, he motioned awkwardly to the timer in his hands before walking down the hallway and turning into a staff’s room.

O ...kay?

He may not have known Roman for long, but that seemed entirely uncharacteristic. Pursing his lips, he finished filling out the sheet as Becca and him walked back. Well, almost. Becca stopped in her office for a split second before returning with a binder and a dazzling smile. Virgil sunk into his jacket with a ‘dazzling’ scowl.

Back inside the room, Becca gave him the binder and led him through all that it entailed, before signing him into the assessment computer. And once more, Becca left him to fill out the assessments alone.

Which was fantastic.

Another round of repetitive questions he’d answered a thousand times before-

In the past 7 days how often have you not able to stop feeling sad? Often.

--felt alone? Always.

--feel everything in your life went wrong? Always.

--feel like you can’t do anything right? Often.

--it was hard for you to have fun? Always.

He supposed a lot of this came from his past family. And, geez, these were not nice memories to go through. But being pushed around and starved for days on end was bound to take a toll on you, and it sure as hell did in the case of Virgil. It was part of the reason he wore hoodies all the time, to hide the- the- oh god he was not ready to think about this right now.

Shaking his head, Virgil returned to the questions, feeling worse than he had. He felt a tear trying to surface and quickly closed his eyes. Not here , he thought. Not now, I can’t. They’ll make fun of me for it.

And yeah, maybe it was illogical to worry about being made fun of for crying in a literal therapy building, but maybe Virgil wasn’t thinking quite right at that point. Maybe he wasn’t thinking quite right often.

Or maybe he was just stupid.

--

The last time Becca returned to his individual room was to bring him out to the cafeteria for something called ‘recreational therapy’ which included doing “fun things” with the other patients.

Great.

After putting away his computer, he was instructed to leave his new binder in the cafeteria and to bring a pen or pencil with him.

He didn’t have either and had to ask someone else for it. Oh, god…

Dodging around the others in the cafeteria, he made his way back to Becca and quietly asked for a pen, and, to his disappointment, didn’t get one. He turned around to face the 3 other patients, forced to consider the options as to who might have a goddamn pen.

The others were all the people he had seen in the waiting room earlier. Only one of them he hadn’t really gotten to know, which was the boy in light blue. He was talking to the loud one, ugh, what was his name again… Roman! Yes, he was talking to Roman. Listening in on their conversation he found that they were talking about… dogs? Well, Light Blue was nearly screaming about dogs while Roman was looking a little bewildered at just how loud this boy was about dogs. Which only left Tie Guy, Logan, to ask. If he didn’t have one, Virgil would have to walk out and ask a staff, so asking the scary one it was.

Glancing towards his binder, Virgil saw that he had 3 pens next to it, black, red, and blue. Bingo!

“Hey uh,” he started once he reached Logan. “Um, can I… uh, sorry, can I borrow a pen? Please?”

Logan’s gaze jerked towards Virgil, then back to his pens. “No,” he stated bluntly. “I only have one black pen. As you can see. ”

“But… I could just… use the red or blue one? I don’t really care that much about colors…” Virgil, to say the least, was hella confused. What was this kid’s deal? First the whole tie thing, now Virgil wasn’t able to use one of his three pens? There was no need to be so rude.

“No, you can’t. Red is for spelling errors and blue is for grammar errors. Everyone knows that. You cannot just use a red or blue pen for normal writing!” Logan nearly growled out. Virgil took a few steps back, was it okay for him to be around this guy?! Was he safe?

He felt a tap on his shoulder and nearly jumped out of his skin. Whipping around, he was faced with Light Blue holding a pen. He let out a sigh of relief.

“Heyo! I’m Patton,” Light Blue said. “I couldn’t help but hear your conversation, so sorry for interrupting, but I have a free pen you could use instead! It’s no big deal to me!” Patton’s smile was nearly blinding as he held the pen out. Grabbing the pen, Virgil felt a little… unnerved. Maybe it was just the anxiety talking, but this guy seemed way too nice to be here. Maybe he was just about to leave the program?

“Uh, thanks.” Was the only thing he said in response before retreating to the corner of the room. He could see Becca hovering around the computer before telling them she would be back in a second.

Well ain’t that just fucking great .

“Ooh, scandalous~!” Roman yelled as Becca went to leave the room. “Leaving a bunch of teens unsupervised? Didn’t take ya for the type.” Virgil looked at him. If he remembered correctly, Roman had said this was his second day. So, why was he so… extroverted? He, along with Patton, didn’t really feel like they belonged in this group. Patton seemed too bright and happy, and Roman seemed too loud and confident.

“You is not pronounced ‘ya’.” Logan huffed. Roman turned to him looking a bit confused.

“It’s… not that different, though?”

“Every little thing matters, Roman. I’ve explained this to you before, so why do you continue to lack the capacity to understand it?” Roman spluttered at this, the insult obviously getting to him.

“I was just telling you my opinion, and you don’t need to… insult me over it! Believe it or not, I don’t like being called stupid!” Roman spat out.

Uh oh.

“I did not call you stupid. It seems as if you came to that conclusion yourself, yet I will not deny it.”

“ You implied it you-”

Before Roman could finish, Becca, in all her glory, opened the door and invited them to follow her. Well, maybe invited wasn’t the correct term, but Virgil was well on his way to a massive anxiety attack and couldn’t give a shit.

Once Becca had led them outside and had them all introduce themselves, she gave them a simple two-sided sheet of paper.

“Today, we’re going to be doing a people scavenger hunt! On the paper, there’s a bunch of questions, and it’s your job to find someone who fits the criteria! Once you do, they should sign your paper. Try not to use the same person for most of the questions! Sounds great, don’t you agree?”

“Yay.” Virgil muttered unenthusiastically, curling into his hoodie when both Roman and Patton turned to him.

“Miss Becca, there are four of us. Statistically speaking, it is unlikely for us to be able to fill out the entirety of this sheet, especially with questions like the 13th, which says ‘Someone who has red hair.’ As you can see, none of us have red hair. I must recommend that you reprint this paper with questions we can properly answer.” Logan attempted to smooth down his hair in the wind as he spoke, his paper resting on a clipboard, because of course Logan had prepared himself with a clipboard while the rest of them had to combat the wind attempting to blow their papers away.

“It’s okay, Logan,” Becca smiled sweetly. “You don’t need to answer all the questions before we go back in.”

“Yes I do, or the assignment is incomplete!”

Smile dropping, Becca motioned for the others to start as she turned to talk to Logan. And with that, Virgil was forced to communicate with the last two.

Already, Patton and Roman seemed to be chatting, which left Virgil to awkwardly stand by while they filled the paper out. Virgil could feel his breathing quickening, why did Logan have to be picky? He could be talking to him, which would be better than just standing here with nothing to do!

Roman turned to him once he had gotten the paper signed, smiling slightly at him before skimming his eyes through the paper. Wait, he took it back, he wasn’t ready to talk yet oh no-

“Do youuu….. Like mint ice cream?” Roman asked, looking up from his paper with a smile. Silently, Virgil nodded. After signing the paper Roman gave to him, Roman stayed, looking expectantly at him. What? Oh! He’s expecting a question quick choose one!!!

Looking at his own paper, Virgil chose the first question his eyes landed on.

“Do you, um. Do you speak another language?” He stuttered out. Roman brightened.

“¡Sí! Hablo español.” Roman was bouncing on his heels, grinning impossibly larger. At Virgil’s dubious stare, he seemed to deflate, a small blush growing on his cheeks. “Sorry, uh, yes, I speak Spanish.”

As Virgil handed him the paper, he had more time to stand awkwardly. Roman had hoisted his leg up and was now balancing precariously on one leg while writing against the other one. His tongue poked out from between his teeth as he tried to not fall over.

Roman had green eyes. While Virgil didn’t usually make eye contact, he couldn’t help but notice while this kid was right in front of him . Virgil had always adored green eyes in people, they may be more rare but they were so pretty and-

Roman glanced up at him, and Virgil quickly flushed. “Do you want me to fill out the green eyes question, too? I’m pretty sure I’m the only one of us who has green eyes, so… y’know… while I’m here, might as well, yea?”

All Roman saw was Virgil’s small nod, which Virgil was grateful for as his mind was screaming at the current moment.

Is this guy psychic what the hell how’d he know EXACTLY what I was thinking??? What???? No, Virge, calm down, he can’t be psychic- BUT WHAT IF HE IS????

Once Virgil got his paper back, he turned once more and was suddenly face-to-face with Patton’s smile.

“Heya kiddo! Have you been on a boat ride?” At Virgil’s shake of his head, he continued. “Hm, okay, have you been to a park in the past few months?

On and on the activity went. Surprisingly, Virgil quickly found himself actually enjoying the activity. Roman and Patton were easy to talk to, if slightly disorienting to the extreme introvert.

Unfortunately, the universe seemed to hate him, because after about 10 questions with the others, Logan stormed back into the building, leaving Becca alone. Becca sighed.

“Sorry guys, but I legally can’t leave him or you without a guardian, so if you could follow me please we will go back inside.”

Back inside, Becca took them to the cafeteria, where Logan already was, meticulously rearranging his binder. When Becca approached him, he hissed out, “I will NOT be doing an assignment where I am forced to fail.”

The three looked at each other, Patton seeming to be the only one who knew what was happening. He gave them a sad smile.

“Logan came here before me, but he told me he has extreme OCD. Basically, he gets anxiety when things don’t go the way his mind tells him they have to.” Patton whispered to them. “I think he has a sort of… fear of failing, so he gets the bad feelings when he can’t finish an assignment. Well, more bad feelings than the average person.”

That made sense, Virgil supposed. While he was told he had a bit of OCD, he wasn’t exactly briefed on all the ins and outs, only diagnosed with it. So he had no definitive answer as to what exactly it was, but from what he had heard, that seemed to fit with the behavior Logan was showing.

A couple minutes passed, Virgil tapping his foot aimlessly. He stared at the ground as Logan continued to bicker, and as Becca desperately tried to calm him down. Eventually, Roman spoke up and told Becca that it was check-out time, which apparently entailed them filling out a sheet of paper before they were able to leave.

Thankfully, Becca told Virgil that he didn’t have to fill a check-out sheet today, which left him awkwardly tapping his pen against the table. He noticed Roman doodling in a blank space on the paper, mouthing the lyrics to a song Virgil couldn’t decipher. Patton was watching the clock after he had finished, which left Logan to be the only one still filling out the sheet.

Once they were finally blessed with the absence of silence in the form of Becca loudly exclaiming that they could start sharing aloud and dear God would Virgil have to do that tomorrow? They were finally allowed to leave.

After signing out and riding the elevator down, with all the other patients and their parents in the cramped space, they finally exited the building.

“So, what’d you think?” His dad asked as they walked to the car. Virgil simply shrugged in response.

And maybe, Virgil enjoyed it a little bit, just a little bit. But he wasn’t going to admit it after he claimed so adamantly that he would hate it the days prior.

The ride home was spent with Virgil telling his online friends what had happened in therapy that day, a task that would quickly become routine in his days at Sanders.

And maybe, just maybe, he was feeling a little bit better at returning the next day.

Maybe.

[runswith]

Travel notes:  Italy (Rome).  Entry 1 – Feb. 25, 2003

I’m sitting at an internet cafe in a neighborhood north of Termini in Rome, a few blocks from where I’m staying. Have been in Rome less than 24 hours. 

The flight from Madrid got underway late. Thirty minutes after takeoff time we remained on the tarmac, one of the flight crew announced we were delayed because “some people” were searching through passengers’ luggage. Meanwhile, the strange mix of jazz and muzak-version popular songs Iberia tends to play on their inboard sound system pooted along, at one point spewing a scary lite-remake of Hey Jude, then a bit later We Can Work It Out. Somewhere in there, I glanced out the window, noticed a handful of airport personnel grouped around a large flatbed cart that contained six or seven large pieces of luggage. Talking, laughing (the people, not the baggage). After a while, an airport truck showed up, they tossed the baggage into it, it took off. The employees disappeared. We finally headed out to the runway and got going.

Next to me sat a 30ish Italian couple. Deeply tanned, maybe from vacation time on the Spanish coast. And big into snuggling, big into handling one another. (Which is okay by me; it’s just been a while since I’ve spent so much time in close proximity to that much foreplay when I wasn’t one of the participants.) A couple of hours later, we were in Rome.

Termini Station: the single longest railway station I’ve ever seen. Got off the train and began walking. Continued walking. And walked some more. Walked and walked and walked, dragging my luggage.  As I neared the station, I passed a couple of close-set columns between which sat two 20-something males looking as if they might have been through recent hard times, a bit soiled and street-weary. Sitting in the shadows, sharing a loaf of bread and some cheese, pouring some wine. I walked past, the aroma of fresh bread filled the air. Fifty, sixty feet away, on another track platform, the lights of a large vending machine apparently dealing in alcoholic beverages shone in the evening darkness. The illuminated words that ran across its top read “SELF BAR SELF BAR SELF.”

Managed to figure out the subway, managed to find my stop, managed to get upstairs to the street, managed (with help from a kind Italian woman) to find my hotel. Checked in, blabbed in Spanish with the man behind the desk. Realized at some point that it was nine o’clock. Tossed my stuff into my room, went back out for something to eat. Found a neighborhood joint tucked away in a narrow cobblestone backstreet-almost-alley. Talked Spanish to them. The proprietor talked Spanish back to me. The result: a good meal.

Went back to the hotel, checked out Italian TV. Watched some of Leonardo DiCaprio, Jeremy Irons, John Malkovich, Gerard Depardieu and Gabriel Byrne emoting their way through a strange version of The Three Musketeers. On shuffling into the bathroom this morning, I found myself dealing for the first time with a phenomenon I’ve heard about: a corner of the room posing as a shower. There’s the usual washbasin/mirror thing, two feet to the right there’s a showerhead poking out of the wall and a drain in the floor beneath. And that’s it. Got it going and, despite elaborate attempts not to spatter water everywhere, managed to spatter water just about everywhere. Sometimes I wonder about me.

A cold, sunny morning. Oranges hung from streetside trees along the walk to the Metro.

And here’s a weird feature of the local subway system: many stations don’t vend tickets -- one has to find a shop aboveground to procure them, usually a tobacconist. I had to wander around the plaza until I located one, a currency exchange shop. Plunged belowground, grabbed a train, returned to Termini, picked up a train ticket for tomorrow’s journey to Florence. Also picked up a Spanish-Italian dictionary.

The outing for the day: the Villa Borghesi, a sprawling, beautifully preserved estate north of here. A beautiful place -- many, many acres of wooded land, rolling expanses of lawn. Also, several enormous old buildings, one of which houses the art collection. The public is only admitted every two hours, only in limited groups. I had an hour and a half until the next entry time, picked up a ticket, found a bench out in the sun. (Temperature around 60, people from all over the planet strolling around, soaking up the rays, all kinds of languages being spoken.) Shortly before entry time, I went to the in-house cafeteria, down in the building’s basement, for some chow prior to showtime. The white-costumed guy behind the counter appeared to have me pegged as an American dimwit, asked me what I wanted, his tone bored, condescending. I replied in Spanish -- surprised, he stopped with the ‘tude and dealt me some food.

The collection: pretty interesting. Many, many rooms with high, vaulted ceilings and abundant marble, filled with art. Statuary everywhere, mostly depicting what might be called females of a robust physical aspect. 

Walked back to this neighborhood from there, along the length of la via Veneto, a concentration point of stores selling expensive neckties. One -- Villi? Zilli? Gilli? can’t remember -- claims to sell the finest tie in the world. Might be they do, I can’t say - I hate wearing neckties.

So there you have it, Rome, day 1. Off to Florence tom’w for four days, then back here. Further updates will happen at some point.

[tynct]

Romeo

masterlist

» summary: Parting is such sweet sorrow that I’ll say good night until tonight becomes tomorrow. Text me?- Your Romeo, Na Jaemin

» genre: theater!au

» words: 1.8k

Out of all the plays, the thousands, upon thousands of plays, the director had to choose the most clique one of them all; romeo and juliet. It had sent your eyes rolling the moment you had been notified, but nonetheless, you were still assigned to be one of the stage hands behind the scenes.

The casting had come and gone quicker than you could blink, and suddenly, the days leading up to the production were getting shorter and shorter, until it was the night before, and the main leads were on the stage, giving their lines a last run through. The crew and other side characters were standing by watching, too dazed to do anything but stare as Na Jaemin stole their hearts with his captivating presence.

You wish you could join them, but you were too busy with last minute adjustments, making sure that all the costumes were stored in the right places, the props in the correct drawers, and by the time you’ve managed to straighten everything out, the auditorium was silent and no longer buzzing with nervous chatter amongst the members.

The relief of finally being able to go home falters when you hear a voice in the distance, and you wonder if it was another stagehand who had stayed late, but upon further inspection, you realize that it’s Jaemin, still on the stage, blinded by the lights as he runs through another line.

No one had been surprised when Jaemin was chosen to play Romeo. It was obvious he’d be the lead the moment he had stepped foot into tryouts, and there’s not a doubt in your mind that they could’ve of chosen a better person for his role. He delivers his lines with the perfect amount of emotion, his actions swift and precise; it’s like he was born for acting.

Jaemin isn’t aware of you peeking around the curtains as he continues speaking, and you’d rather leave it that way, because if you got in the middle of him rehearsing, you know you’d get dragged into helping him with the script, and end up staying here for another hour or two. You dread the thought as you back away slowly, and from being so caught up in watching him, you don’t realize you’re right in front of the stage curtain controls until you bump right into them.

A soft zip fills the air as the line releases, and Jaemin lets out a startled scream as a tarp flutters down on him. He stumbles forward as you scramble to free him, all the while you’re panicking over the thought of accidentally killing the lead actor the night before the play.

“I’m so sorry,” you blurt the second he’s free. He huffs out a choked breath as you grab the comb from your utility belt and fix his hair, another apology spilling from your lips as you pop his collar and dust off his jacket. “You’re fine, right? Please tell me you’re fine.”

“You’re fine- I-I’m fine. I’m fine,” Jaemin coughs awkwardly as you try and collect the tarp, not noticing the way he’s going through the ten stages of denial as you gather the material into your arms.

He’s used to the quick touch ups during breaks between the play; people lightly patting down his cheeks to get rid of the shine, or add a bit of gloss to his lips. It’s normal in this line of work, and it’s never fazed him, no matter how close the stage hands got, but for his heart to be racing just because you went through his hair has him beyond confused.

And no, he is not, god, he hopes he isn’t, developing a crush on someone he’s never even met, especially on someone who had just dropped a tarp over his head and ended up nearly suffocating.

But then you turn to him, and Jaemin all but sighs when he realizes that, well, apparently you can start liking someone just after they’ve nearly sent you to an early grave.

“Here, let me help you with that,” Jaemin shushes your protest as he picks up the ends of the tarp and follows after you. He knows he should be focusing on the play- it’s tomorrow, and he’d really love to go through his lines again, but the grateful look you give him has him nearly stumbling, and he forgets the thought.

Like everyone had predicted, Jaemin is flawless throughout the entire performance. Him and Juliet are on their last scene, and you had snuck away for a moment to watch from the sidelines, your headset now around your neck and clipboard somewhere lost in a dressing room.

Jaemins eyes catch on yours when he faces the girl, her back to you, and sends a wink that has you freezing. What was that? Your heart flutters when his lip quirks up at your reaction before he goes back to his part. No one else was around, so that had to be for you, right?

You slowly put your headset back on and rush towards Jisung, quieting his nervous rambling over a torn necktie and pull it together with a safety pin. The rest of the night carries on just as chaotic, but there had been no accidents on stage, no one stuttered or forgot their lines.

The crowd roars as the cast bows, and you give Chenle a thumbs up and begin lowered the curtain, this time without it tumbling down on someone’s head.

“Hey.”

You tense when Jaemin appears at your side, glowing from his performance, a bouquet of roses weighing him down. You offer him a quick nod as you secure the ropes, already moving towards the others when he catches your wrist, stopping you with a shy smile that has your heart fluttering for the second time.

“Here,” he doesn’t give you a chance to say a word as he shoves the flowers into your arms and darts to Jeno, who immediately laughs at his friend and waves.

You hesitate to return the gesture, and once they’re out of sight, and peer down at the flowers. These were supposed to be for him, to congratulate him on his performance, but when you read the card attached to the side, you gulp at the number scrawled out neatly, along with the words underneath, Parting is such sweet sorrow that I’ll say good night until tonight becomes tomorrow. Text me?- Your Romeo, Na Jaemin